


Crossroads

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 62,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2462336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: What if d'Art didn't stay with the Musketeers after he helped find his father's killer, which resulted in saving Athos's life.<br/>Takes place shortly after Athos is freed from jail.<br/>Also you may see a smattering of the Gascon language here (what I could find on the internet).</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"What ya mean yer leavin' us?" Porthos growled up at d'Artagnan who was already mounted on his horse ready to ride out.

"Yes, I thought you would be staying," Aramis felt put out. He rather liked the young hellion. There weren't an awful lot of people he had taken an immediate liking too in his life and d'Artagnan was one of the few. 

"I left everything in turmoil back home. Especially when I had to send my father's body back for burial and I couldn't even be there to oversee it," d'Artagnan's hands gripped the reigns tightly. Zad could sense the tension in his rider and started to paw the ground, snorting loudly which had d'Artagnan reaching out to stroke his horse's mane, calming the beast down to a degree.

One look at the youngster and both men could see that d'Artagnan felt that he had the weight of the world on his slim shoulders. Neither Musketeer wanted to see him part from them this soon or at all. He already felt like a little brother to them.

"Since father's gone now someone has to go back and manage the farm," d'Artagnan tried for a smile but the gesture didn’t quite reach his lips. "I'm the only one left in the family. I have to go back."

"Lad, you helped save our friend's life," Porthos reminded the boy gruffly. "That counts for a lot with us."

"I agree," Aramis placed a hand on the youngster's leg. "If you must go," he stared into d'Artagnan's sad brown eyes, "perhaps you could appoint someone of trust to oversee your farm so that you can come back to us."

Closing his eyes briefly, d'Artagnan felt his throat tighten up with some strange emotion. "Why? Why should I?" He knew Aramis was going to argue the point with him and rushed to get the rest of his words out. "Even I know there are a limited number of ways to become a Musketeer." D'Artagnan ticked them off, needing only two fingers. "One... being of a noble lineage and therefore having money. Two... having a patron, someone to sponsor me," he let go of the reigns and held out his hands. "I have neither." D'Artagnan knew if he didn't leave them now these two Musketeers might break through his resolve and convince him to stay against his better judgment and to hell with the farm that needed his attention desperately.

"It's been a privilege to have known you both," d'Artagnan glanced behind the two men not seeing their third comrade anywhere. He had hoped to say goodbye to the man he had once accused of murdering his father the moment he had walked inside the garrison to challenge him. But Athos was nowhere to be seen. "I only met him briefly, but do give my regards to your friend Athos for me.” Taking the reigns up once more he saluted both Musketeers. "Adieu."

"Putain!" Porthos spat violently. "Where was Athos? The least he could have done was to see the lad off!"

Removing his hat, Aramis ran his hand roughly through his hair, tangling it up. "I don't know the answer to that. But what I do know is that young man belongs with us."

"Yeah, but how do we get the whelp to see that?"

"Let's give him some time to see to his farm’s needs while we try to figure out a way to keep him."

"I like the way you think, Aramis," Porthos grinned, slapping the other man on the back so hard that Aramis nearly fell into a horse trough near where he stood.

"So do I at times, mon ami."

++++

*Captain Treville's office*

“From what Aramis and Porthos told me in their report d’Artagnan went charging right after Gaudet with no thought of the danger to himself,” Treville finished writing something down in his ledger. “Gaudet, the coward, had the nerve to go after d’Artagnan when his back was turn. After a warning shout, the boy turned quickly around and skewered Gaudet like the pig he was,” Treville smiled proudly as if d’Artagnan were already a member of the Musketeer regiment. “Gascons are a hotheaded lot.” Remembering the times he and Alexandre were younger and the trouble they both would get into, he chuckled. "So like his father in that respect.

"You knew d’Artagnan’s father, sir?" This clearly was surprising news to Athos.

"Grew up with Alexandre until I felt the pull of Paris calling out to me," he sighed. "I feel his loss as much as young d'Artagnan does. The lad's mother passed away when the boy was barely eight years old. So it has been just the two of them for a very long time."

“When I came into the courtyard to place you under arrest I barely glanced at the young man who was with you,” Treville ran a hand down the side of his face. “To tell you the truth since I haven’t seen the boy since he was little I wouldn’t have recognized him unless I was right up in his face, which I wasn’t at the time.”

“Then Porthos and Aramis went to d’Artagnan to find out about the men that had attacked him and his father and things carried on from there,” Athos nodded his head knowing the rest of the story from his friends. “You never really got a chance to talk to d’Artagnan yet have you?" 

“That's right and I feel damn bad about it! Ever since your release the boy's disappeared.” Treville frowned, contemplating the future d’Artagnan faces now without his father to help with all that’s involved running a farm. He needed to talk to the lad before he returned home.

A knock on the captain’s door interrupted their conversation and Treville barked out, “Enter!” Seeing Aramis and Porthos standing at the edge of the entrance he motioned for them to step inside. “Well?”

“D’Artagnan’s gone!” Aramis shot Athos a furious look.

“What the deuce do you mean by that?” Treville demanded, his right hand slapped the hard wood of his desk with resounding force.

“He left to go home,” Porthos snarled, his dark eyes shooting sparks at Athos. He could see that his friend was bewildered by the hostile looks being sent his way.

“Didn’t either of you try to stop the lad?” Treville put his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth. Treville realized he should have tried harder to find d'Artagnan and been the one to ask the boy to stay.

“We tried,” Porthos folded his arms, brooding. He wished he had someone to spar with right now so he could do someone a bodily injury.

“Athos should have at least attended,” Aramis waved his hat in the air and would have thrown it at Athos in a childish fit if he were anywhere but in the captain’s office. “D’Artagnan did after all help clear your name.”

“I had no idea the boy would only wait long enough to see that I wasn’t plugged full of holes before clearing out,” Athos snapped, he did not enjoy being on the receiving end of his friend’s anger. Pushing his chair back he stood up as did the captain. Noticing Aramis and Porthos exchanging concerned looks, Athos knew that there was more to the story than just d’Artagnan going back to the family farm. “What?”

“The lad feels there’s no point in hangin’ around here anyway with no prospects keepin’ em’ here.” Porthos glanced sideways at Treville who stood stiffly beside Athos as he listened to their exchange.

“Que diable!” Athos ran his hands through his hair making it stick out all over the place. What a mess he thought.

“Gentlemen, I should have been there to handle this situation,” Treville told them quietly, “since I knew d’Artagnan’s father. I doubt that the lad even remembers me for he was quite little when I left the area,” he repeated that information for the benefit of Aramis and Porthos who weren’t privy to his earlier conversation with Athos.

“I did mention to d’Artagnan that perhaps he could find someone trustworthy to run his farm for him leaving him free to come back here.” Aramis stared at the floor as if it held all the answers for him.

“No noble lineage just like I had none,” Porthos added with a shrug. “Difference is that I managed to find a patron and he don’t have one of those either.”

“Ah!” Treville nodded, understanding the boy’s thinking completely and he couldn’t blame d’Artagnan for that since he never got to talk to him. Staring into space for a few seconds he came to a decision. “If I didn’t have so many pressing matters to attend to I’d ride after d’Artagnan and drag him off that farm myself.”

“Do I detect a note of frustration?” Athos dared to ask.

“After the men here told me how d’Artagnan handled himself in the search for Alexander’s killer, I knew he’d be the right fit for this regiment,” Treville hung his head and murmured softly. “Alexandre taught his son well.”

“I think with a few words of encouragement from a certain quarter,” Aramis gazed at Athos until the other man squirmed under his intense stare, “d’Artagnan may be persuaded back to us.”

“All right,” Athos’s lips tightened. He didn’t deal well with other people’s feelings. Hell, it was too messy. If this boy burst into tears when talking about his father Athos knew he’d be incapable of comforting him. It wasn’t in his nature. Any tender feelings he may have possessed were burnt out of him ages ago. It started with a rope and ended with a hanging. “All right,” he repeated. “I’ll go see d’Artagnan. I owe him a rather belated thank you after all.”

“I’ll say,” Porthos snorted. “That look you gave the youngin’ right after we just saved your neck didn’t qualify in our book,” he shot Aramis an amused glance seeing the other man smirking in agreement.

“Athos, tell d’Artagnan from me that I’ll sponsor him personally.” Captain Treville had been toying with the idea after he had found out that the lad had decided to aid in clearing Athos’s name.

“With a little help from myself as well,” Athos added. “Since I do owe the boy for getting rid of Gaudet’s foul presence.”

“I say we all aid the captain in d’Artagnan’s sponsorship,” Aramis suggested, gaining an affirmative nod from Porthos.

“Fine, gents,” Treville held up a hand, “but I will deal with the bulk of it.” Sitting back in his chair he finally allowed himself to relax. “Athos, give d’Artagnan about a month to come to terms with things back home and then go ride out to see him.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

++++

*One month later, the d’Artagnan farm*

“D’Artagnan!” Zacharie hollered out toward the fields where the boy was working the plow.

Sweaty, tired and short tempered, d’Artagnan didn’t want to stop. If he did he feared his muscles would cease working. It had been a long, trying day for him. “What is it?” he yelled back. Zacharie had been a valued retainer of his father’s for as long as he could remember, likewise Roland and Pascal. They were more like family to him than anything else and had agreed to stay on after his father’s passing.

“Rider’s a coming,” Zacharie shouted back.

Shading his eyes, d’Artagnan couldn’t make out who their visitor was. He wondered if it were another one of his neighbors come calling to give him their condolences on the death of his father, now that they knew he was back to stay.

It might sound strange to others, but he actually hoped it was a bandit come to rob him instead. D’Artagnan needed to practice his blade work on someone other than the three older men in his employ.

++++

Athos thought it was lovely country as he took in the gently rolling landscape of farms and vineyards he had passed by on his way to Lupiac. He even had an occasional distant view of the Pyrenees mountain range during his travels here.

Collecting his wandering thoughts, the closer he got to d’Artagnan’s home the more Athos grew concerned. He hoped the boy would at least hear him out before sending him packing. 

Patting Roger on his mane, Athos knew he was in the correct area now based on Captain Treville’s directions which were quite thorough. Looking around he could only see one farm in his line of sight. Off in the distance he could see a slender youth standing beside a plow looking an awful lot like d’Artagnan. So he urged Roger on.

++++

Handing over the plow into Roland’s more than capable hands, d’Artagnan strode over to the well. A bucket of water was perched on the edge of it where he retrieved the dipper to take a sip of the cool liquid. D’Artagnan stayed there resting until his visitor approached. When he realized who it was d’Artagnan nearly choked on the water as it slid down his parched throat.

D’Artagnan noticed right off that Athos was not dressed in his uniform but in casual attire as he dismounted and walked over to where he stood. “Adiu,” d’Artagnan greeted him in his native tongue without thinking until he noticed the puzzlement written on Athos’s face. “Welcome,” he corrected.

“Ah!” Athos tried for a smile and hoped it came across as such. He had been told in the past that his attempts made little children and adults run from him in terror for their lives. Glancing at the water he asked, “May I?”

“Forgive me,” d’Artagnan became flustered for a moment forgetting his manners. “Here,” he handed Athos the dipper and waited until the man had enough to satisfy his thirst.

“My thanks,” Athos looked about him and liked what he saw of the farm. “You seem to have things nicely in hand here.”

“I’ve been trying, but it hasn’t been easy without my father’s wise counsel,” d’Artagnan grimaced. To keep himself busy he took the reigns of Athos’s horse, leading him into the barn. He glanced back to see if the Musketeer was following him and was disconcerted to find the man right by his side. “What made you take the long trip out here?”

“I was upset to find that you had left us,” Athos replied stiffly. “As was Captain Treville.”

“Did not Aramis or Porthos explain my circumstances?”

“Yes,” Athos glanced at his surroundings once more and nodded. “Part of me understood your reasons for coming back here.”

“And the other part?” d’Artagnan sounded almost challenging. What did the man expect him to do, let the farm fall to ruin?

“Wondering why you couldn’t stay with us and simply write to your retainers back here to take over for you.”

“It’s not that easy. There’s a lot to take care of,” d’Artagnan ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair. “This farm thrived thanks to my father’s diligent, backbreaking work and no thanks to the high taxes the people of Gascony have lived under,” d’Artagnan’s eyes burned with a deep inner fire. “Which was the main reason in the first place for the trip I made with my father to Paris,” he growled low.

Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Athos winced. “Alas, taxes are out of my jurisdiction and something I do not have control over.”

“Apologies,” d’Artagnan pulled a face. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off.” He finished unsaddling Athos’s horse and having settled the animal to his satisfaction walked out of the barn with the other man on his heels.

Leading Athos to his house d’Artagnan hoped Lorraine had finished her baking for the day, otherwise the house would feel as hot as the oven she had used. But it was pleasingly cool once he and Athos stepped inside. Offering the man a chair and a glass of wine, d’Artagnan waited to hear the reason he came here.

“My thanks,” Athos nodded as he took the glass from the youngster’s work roughened hand. A hand that should have been wielding a sword... not a plow, noble though the occupation was. It was not d’Artagnan’s destiny.

An older woman came bustling into the outer room where the men were. Her hands twisting inside her apron as she took in the sight of their visitor. Clucking, Lorraine’s bright eyes smiled over at the boy. “Is your friend going to need a room with us, d’Artagnan?”

Staring into the other man’s eyes, d’Artagnan saw an affirmation there and turned to her. “Yes, Lorraine. Merci,” he gave her a sunny smile as she patted his cheek. Turning back to face Athos, d’Artagnan blushed at having the man see such a familial act. “Lorraine like the rest of my retainers have lived and worked on this farm nearly their entire lives,” he explained. “Most of my people have known me since I was a mere babe.”

As he spoke thus to Athos, d’Artagnan wondered what he had said to the older Musketeer to cause such amusement on the man’s face. It wasn’t until Athos twirled a finger in the air motioning for d’Artagnan to turn around that he saw his own reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. Grinning sheepishly at it d’Artaganan ducked his head in embarrassment. Lorraine’s gentle pat to his face had left an imprint of flour on his one cheek. Moaning softly he went into the kitchen for a towel to wipe it off. Though when he returned back d'Artagnan wished he could have wiped the smirk off of Athos’s face just as easily.

“Have you settled things to your satisfaction here, d’Artagnan?”

“Why do you need to know that?” d’Artagnan asked angrily, his frustration building because he knew where this conversation was going to go... downhill very quickly.

“You are meant to be one of us?” Athos’s blue eyes flashed at the boy.

“How would you know? You spent most of your time locked up in the Bastille awaiting the firing squad to end your life!” d’Artagnan fired back harshly.

“True,” Athos admitted while taking another sip of wine. “But you impressed Porthos and Aramis with your intelligence and skill and that’s not easily done.” Athos heard d’Artagnan's indrawn breath. “I also learned how you broke Aramis’s element of surprise when you charged at an unsuspecting Gaudet,” he smiled slowly. “ I would have loved to have savored that moment myself.”

“From the bits and pieces I’ve gained about you from your two friends, if you had been there I would have been royally chewed and spit out for my actions of that night.”

“If you had been under my command then yes that would have been true at the time,” Athos nodded as he swirled the wine in his glass.

At that moment Roland interrupted them when he walked inside. “Escusats-me, d’Artagnan, but I have finished plowing that portion of the field you wanted done.”

“Good work,” d’Artagnan praised. “Why don’t you and Pascal take a nice long break. You’ve both earned it.”

“Merci, d’Artagnan.”

Then Lorraine came back from upstairs getting the guest room ready. Standing beside Roland she gave the man a loving look.

Standing close behind the couple, d’Artagnan placed an arm around each of their shoulders, his eyes twinkling. “They are happily married to each other and have been charged with keeping me out of mischief,” d’Artagnan’s lips quirked upward, “for the most part.” 

As d’Artagnan formally introduced them to Athos, Lorraine curtseyed and Roland bowed. “Q ue m’he gai de t’veder,” she said with a kind smile. Then nudging her husband Roland took off his beret while grinning over at their visitor.

“D’Artagnan, what did the good woman just say to me?”

“Apologies,” d’Artagnan grimaced. “Lorraine simply expressed her pleasure at meeting you.”

“Ah!” Athos smiled at the older couple and then watched as they went their separate ways. Standing up he slowly walked over to d’Artagnan’s side. Laying one hand on the youngster’s shoulder he gripped the boy’s chin with the other, forcing the young man to look at him. “Make arrangements while I am here," he ordered softly. "Then we travel back to Paris together.”

“For what purpose?” d’Artagnan retorted, not relishing being told what to do from a relative stranger. Even if it was someone whose life he helped save.

“To train under us,” Athos sighed, wondering if he were doing the correct thing here. The youngster seemed to have loving, loyal employees. What right did he or anyone have to tear him from this to introduce him to a life full of danger, hardship and, of course, excitement.

Crossing his arms, d’Artagnan’s Gascon stubborness came to the fore. Leaning casually against the wall he glared at Athos. “I’m not a noble with money nor do I have a benefactor. So why bother wasting my time on something that can never be fulfilled?”

“Easily remedied,” Athos shrugged the boy’s concern away. But he could see the wheels spinning in d’Artagnan’s brain wondering where he was going with this.

“Explain yourself?” d’Artagnan snapped, not caring that this man was a guest in his house plus a representative of the king’s Musketeers.

Ignoring the tone in the young man's voice, Athos responded to the command. “Captain Treville knew your father did you know that?”

“I vaguely recalled my father mentioning a man by that name a few times. If I had met him before I must have been quite small,” d’Artagnan sighed heavily. “Everything’s happened so fast since my father died in my arms,” his eyes peeked out at Athos from underneath his bangs. “Finding out where you were. Rushing into the garrison to issue my challenge. Only to find out you weren’t the man I wanted to take my vengeance on.” D’Artagnan started to pace the room. “Everything was turned upside down. And during all of that, I never had the opportunity to formally meet the captain.”

“Well Treville grew up with your father and feels his loss just as keenly as you.” Athos observed the boy closely taking in his measure and liking what he found. Just as he had when he locked eyes with d’Artagnan after his release was procured and he was safe from the firing squad. Clasping d’Artagnan’s arm in brotherhood he said, “Our captain wants to be your patron and I, along with Aramis and Porthos would like to help with that as well.”

Tears he had forced back since the death of his father finally were set free as they fell down d’Artagnan’s young face. “Why? You don’t owe me anything. None of you do.”

“My life hung in the balance.” Athos remembered his grim stay in the Bastille thinking that it was what he deserved for his crime against Anne, no matter what she had done to rip his heart out from his chest. Fate had just taken five years longer than he thought to catch up with him. “You,” he poked the lad in the chest hard, “balanced the scales of justice in my favor,” Athos shrugged lightly. “Besides, both Aramis and Porthos told me later that you fit in snugly with them like a hand in glove,” he smiled. “That’s a great recommendation coming from those two.”

“I’m humbled that they would think so,” d’Artagnan murmured quietly, too overcome with emotion to say much more.

“Anyway it would be a shame to let a sword arm like yours go to waste,” Athos’s brow arched high. “Remember I had a short taste of your blade work earlier,” picking up his wine glass again Athos took another sip, “rustic technique but effective.”

“How about the dagger?” d’Artagnan grinned, remembering how he threw it with accuracy at the post and not at Athos’s back.

“Even your skill with that will improve under Porthos’s tutelage.” Athos shook his head at himself.

“What?” 

“This is the most I’ve talked one on one in quite awhile. Treville would be impressed with my skill set,” Athos grunted.

“How do you usually converse?”

“One word syllables usually do the trick,” Athos remarked dryly and held back a bark of laughter as d’Artagnan rolled his eyes. “Also an arched brow in the right direction works minor miracles in certain circumstances,” he added, “or so I am told.”

Laughing, tears long gone, d’Artagnan wondered what he had in store for him, but he was eager to find out.

“When we get back to Paris it will be interesting to see which one of my friend’s won their bet,” Athos mused as he polished off his drink.

“What bet?” d’Artagnan tilted his head in curiosity as he watched the Musketeer’s lips twitch.

“Whether you’d come back with me or not.” Athos watched as d’Artagnan's brows drew together as he frowned, then a grin split his face which resulted in more laughter pouring forth. "You should do more of that," Athos remarked, thinking that the boy needed more amusement in his life despite the losses he had been dealt. It made d'Artagnan appear what he should have been... young and carefree. If anything, the laughter would at least ease the heartache within the lad's soul. 

Then Athos scoffed to himself bitterly. Who was he to offer advice when he had never taken any of it himself. Well he would see to it that d’Artagnan didn’t have time to brood over things that can not be changed. The youngster had a new life to get used too along with a new family as well.

Wiping his eyes, d’Artagnan wondered out loud. “Porthos probably bet against you.”

“Then Porthos can damn well buy us all the drinks once we return home!” 

It had a nice sound to it - *home*. D’Artagnan had a home for the past eighteen years. Now he looked forward to a different one with different people. Something told him that a new page was being written in the book of his life. And his father’s words on their way to Paris came back to him. *Son, one day you will be a great man and do great deeds*. Perhaps his father knew that his son wasn’t destined to work the land. D’Artagnan only hoped that with time he could live up to that claim.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TinkerBella wanted more. So we will see where this one goes or how long, eh?

*Musketeer garrison*

Porthos and Aramis were sparring with several other Musketeers as Athos arrived with d’Artagnan. Calling halt to their practice they thanked their opponents and strode over to welcome the two men back. 

Rubbing his hands together in glee, Aramis then slapped Porthos on the back. “Oh ho!” Aramis clapped his hands. “Looks like the drinks will be on you tonight, mon ami!”

“I don’t mind this time,” Porthos dark eyes gleamed bright as they took in d’Artagnan’s much missed Gascon features which were beaming right back at him. “Welcome back, lad.”

“It feels right,” d’Artagnan shyly smiled at the dark-skinned Musketeer as he dismounted.

“It is right, d’Artagnan,” Aramis clasped the young man’s forearm in comradery. Then Porthos took his turn nearly crushing the youth in his strong hold.

“Gentlemen, nice as this is I believe d’Artagnan needs to spend some time with Captain Treville,” Athos tipped his hat at them as he guided the boy up the stairs to the office.

“Tonight we celebrate at the Wild Boar,” Porthos hollered after them.

“I’ll look forward to it!” d’Artagnan shouted back.

“Word of advise,” Athos cautiously warned, “don’t try and keep up with Porthos. The man could drink the entire regiment under the table and still keep his head.”

“No worries, there,” d’Artagnan replied casually. “I usually hold myself to a few glasses of wine or lager.”

“No head for it?” Athos figured a few more years on the boy would change that and then d’Artagnan would be quite able to match them all drink for drink.

“My father took me out to our local inn on my eighteenth birthday,” d’Artagnan felt a momentary sadness as he remembered the occasion for it wasn’t that very long ago. “I got drunk after just three lagers.”

“Ah! No worries then,” Athos eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled slightly at the lad. “You can help carry myself and Aramis out of the tavern later.”

“I’ll have Porthos support Aramis and I’ll carry you,” d’Artagnan grinned at the older man as he heard Athos’s snuff of laughter.

++++

Captain Treville had just finished writing his last report when the sound of knocking registered. “Entrer!” When he saw who stepped through his door, Treville was thrilled. “Welcome back, d’Artagnan!” He got up, walked around his desk and stood before the young man. As he stared into the boy's eyes he could see his old friend Alexandre looking right back at him. Though d’Artagnan favored his mother, Jennette, even more. Pulling the lad toward him, Treville kissed d’Artagnan lightly on both cheeks. “Finally after all the drama we meet officially.”

Not knowing what to say, d’Artagnan glanced at Athos for some guidance.

“I believe the lad’s tongue is tied, Captain and d’Artagnan thanks you for this great opportunity you’re giving him.”

“Uh... er... yes, sir,” d’Artagnan stammered out, feeling quite out of his depth now that he was in Captain Treville’s presence. Not wanting to embarrass himself anymore than he already had, d’Artagnan finally found his voice. “I truly appreciate everything all of you are going to be doing for me.”

“Trust me on this, d’Artagnan, if nothing else, you will be working extremely hard to become one of us,” Treville’s tone softened as he gazed into eyes so familiar to him that he felt a lump building up in his throat. “Athos, see if you or the others can find a place for the lad to stay now that he is here. He’ll commence his training bright and early on the morrow.”

“Yes, sir.” With a look at the boy that told d’Artgnan their business here was done, Athos turned around to leave.

“Oh, d’Artagnan,” Treville called out as the lad followed Athos, “I will assume your retainers are going to supply you with a small monthly income from your farm, but if at anytime you are short please do inform me since I am going to be your patron now.”

“My thanks once more, Captain,” d’Artagnan nodded with a relieved look of gratitude on his face. 

“That is all,” Treville dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

As they left, d’Artgnan felt a hand on his arm and glanced back to see Athos’s eyes focused on him.

“Do not forget that you now have three brothers who you can also look to for any help you would seek.”

“Brothers,” d’Artagnan repeated softly, liking the sound of that. “I never had any siblings before and to now have three brothers is welcome indeed. I think I’ll rather enjoy it.”

Reaching a hand out impulsively Athos ruffled the boy’s long locks.

“Now that I can do without,” d’Artagnan scowled, batting the hand away.

“You are our youngest recruit ever and as such you better get used to it... pup.”

Rolling his eyes, d’Artagnan stabbed Athos with a black look. Fortunately for him, the man’s back was turned as Athos walked down the steps ahead of him. “Does being the youngest entitle me to listen to childish nicknames?”

When Athos stopped in the middle of the stairs, turned slightly to stare up at the boy, a retort on his lips, he saw d’Artagnan hold up a hand to halt his words.

“I know... *get used to it*,” d’Artagnan grunted as he heard Athos’s amused snort.

As they entered the courtyard again Aramis came directly over to d’Artagnan placing a hand on the youngster’s shoulder. “Before anything else we have to find you decent accommodations quickly.” His hand tapping his chin in thought, Aramis snapped his fingers. “Constance just lost a border and could use the extra income.”

“Constance?” d’Artagnan questioned.

“Bonacieux,” Aramis filled in. “She’s a local merchant’s wife and packs a mean slap when angered,” he rubbed the side of his face in remembrance of the last time Aramis said something he shouldn’t have.

“Firsthand experience?” Athos asked curiously. Knowing the good woman that she was and the way Aramis acts, it wouldn’t take much for her to do the man an injury.

“I sometimes say or do things she does not approve of,” Aramis shrugged. “But she does have that one quality I admire above all else in a woman,” he sighed.

“And that would be?” d’Artagnan couldn’t wait to meet her. By the sounds of things this Constance could have been from Gascony. The woman sounds like she has fire in her soul.

“Violence,” Aramis grinned as he led d’Artagnan to his possible new home.

++++

*Bonacieux home*

“Oh hello, Aramis,” Constance couldn’t help but notice the nice looking young man standing beside the Musketeer. “Tell me you brought me a paying tenant?”

Pushing d’Artagnan in front of him Aramis chuckled as the boy stumbled into the entrance.

“Can’t he walk by himself?” Constance had her hands on her hips as she frowned at Aramis's ill handling of the youngster.

“He needs a little incentive every now and then, my good woman,” Aramis’s brown eyes sparkled. “D’Artagnan is new to Paris and is to train to become a Musketeer.”

“Pity,” Constance sniffed as if she could have cared less about that profession. “You lot have enough of those to go around why add him to your numbers?” Then turning on d’Artagnan, Constance poked him in the ribs. “And why are you being such an idiot? You want to get yourself killed? If only men would think!” she huffed in anger.

Opening and closing his mouth, d’Artagnan floundered as he heard Madame Bonacieux's words. He observed Aramis fidget with an edge of a lace table cloth only to have his hand slapped hard by her. D’Artagnan allowed himself a small amused smile at Madame's action. He guessed that was what Aramis meant about loving her tendency toward violent behavior.

“Well?” Constance stamped her foot waiting for d’Artagnan to speak up. “Can’t you talk for yourself either?”

“I think the lad’s overwhelmed with your delightful femininity,” Aramis quipped as he bowed before her.

“I can slap your face again if you’d like, Aramis!” Constance snapped.

Knowing his own face felt flushed from embarrassment again, there was nothing he could do about it now. “Madame, I would consider it an honor if you would let out a room for myself.”

“Well if you don’t do something stupid like getting yourself killed,” Constance remarked in annoyance, “rent’s due on time at the end of each month.” She eyed the young man warily. “Think you could manage that?”

“There will be no problem in that respect, Madame.” D’Artagnan had never in his short life felt so intimidated by a woman before. All the married or unmarried ones for that matter back home were gentle, kind and understanding, at least the ones he knew. D’Artagnan began to wonder if all the women in Paris were like this one.

“You can be assured of that, Constance,” Aramis added. “Captain Treville’s sponsoring our youngest here.”

“With help from Athos, Porthos and Aramis,” d’Artagnan added for Madame's benefit.

“Very well,” Constance gave d’Artagnan her first genuine smile. “Follow me then.” She took him to a room that had been recently vacated. “It’s freshly aired out and clean.” Constance dropped a key in his hand. “Make sure you don’t lose it.”

As she walked away, d’Artagnan’s eyes followed her every movement until Aramis nudged him in the side.

“Her husband’s an idiot if you ask me?” Aramis whispered so that she didn’t hear him.

“Why do you say such a thing?”

“Doesn’t know how to appreciate what he has,” Aramis smirked.

“Well how would you know something that personal?”

“Jauque Bonacieux spends more time on the road peddling his wares than at home. He cares more for his bolts of fabric than what’s right under his nose.”

“You sound as if you’re smitten with Madame Bonacieux yourself, Aramis.”

“Non,” Aramis shook his head in denial. “I just hate waste.”

“Well, my thanks for bringing me here.”

“Remember, drinks tonight are on Porthos,” Aramis laughed gayly as he tipped his hat at d’Artagnan and left the youngster to settle in.

As d’Artagnan collapsed on his bed he heard distant sounds of slapping again and wondered what the deuce Aramis did or said this time.


	3. Chapter 3

*Garrison Courtyard*

True to Treville’s word, d’Artagnan found himself facing the Musketeer Porthos bright and early the next morning. They were the only two occupants in the courtyard since the sun just came up.

“You were pretty accurate when you threw your dagger at Athos’s back that first time when you came into our garrison to challenge him,” Porthos laughed at the memory. “But I’ll teach you some tricks I’m sure you’ve never seen.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” d’Artagnan sent the large man an engaging grin.

“Save that look for the ladies, lad. Ain’t nothin’ like that works on the likes of me,” Porthos smirked.

“How long are we going to be at it you think?” D’Artagnan just wanted to be prepared for his next lesson which would begin shortly after this one.

Squinting up at the sun, Porthos gave it a quick thought. “Let’s say about an hour, maybe a little more,” he grunted. “Aramis likes his beauty sleep you know. This ways he can laze about until it’s time for him to see how you handle muskets and the like.”

“Athos?”

“Yeah,” Porthos chuckled knowing that d’Artagnan worried the most about their silent leader. “Best for last, eh?” He heard d’Artagnan’s soft huff of laughter. “No tellin’ how long the man will beat you into the ground when it’s Athos’s turn.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, mon ami,” d’Artagnan’s sarcastic tone seemed to roll off Porthos like rain water.

“Listen up, d’Artagnan,” Porthos went over to set up their targets, “you’re good, but you’re still wet behind the ears... pup. So don’t get cocky.”

Rolling his eyes, d’Artagnan waited impatiently for Porthos to line up their marks. Once the dark-skinned Musketeer came back to stand near his side, d’Artagnan waited for the lessons to begin.

++++

*Captain Treville’s office*

“Porthos and the lad started early I see,” Treville smiled at his lieutenant as he watched Athos’s staring out the window down into the courtyard below.

“I don’t want the boy to get a swelled head, but he seems to be a natural with the daggers,” Athos freely admitted.

“Swords?” Treville cocked an eyebrow as he sat back in his chair observing the play of emotions on his lieutenant’s face.

“Remains to be seen as yet.” Athos leaned casually against the wall still keeping an eye on the boy and Porthos. “Raw potential to be honed skillfully,” he turned to face his captain and smiled briefly, “and then he’ll be a deadly force to reckon with.”

“My feeling exactly,” Treville nodded. “Promise me something.”

“If I can, sir,” Athos tilted his head slightly as he waited.

“Leave d’Artagnan some dignity before you knock him on his young ass.” Athos’s muffled laughter reached Treville’s ears as the Musketeer headed out the door.

++++

*Back in the courtyard*

Clapping his hands enthusiastically as he relaxed on top of the bench table, Aramis laughed gayly. He had just joined them and for the past few minutes was pleasantly surprised at the youngster's accuracy. “I say, d’Artagnan, well done!” Glancing at Porthos, Aramis gave a thumbs up. “The lad handles daggers well it would seem.”

Ruffling the boy’s long hair, Porthos grinned at the scowl and matching pout d’Artagnan gave him while the younger man tried unsuccessfully to bat Porthos’s hand away. “He’ll do,” Porthos grunted with pride. 

“May I get a drink of water before Aramis takes his turn with me?” D’Artagnan had his eye longingly on the lone water skin that laid on the bench and he could really use a drink right now. It had past eight thirty in the morning yet it was quite warm already.

Throwing the water skin at the boy, Aramis grinned. He picked up two muskets sitting side by side on the bench top. After d’Artagnan had satisfied his thirst, Aramis strode over and gave one of the muskets to the boy. “I’ll set up fresh targets and then,” he poked the young man in the chest, “I’ll see how much work I’ll have to do with you,” he smirked knowingly.

“Comforting, very comforting,” d’Artagnan mumbled quietly to himself, but he knew Aramis heard him from the snickering coming from that quarter.

++++

Finally calling a halt after over an hour of shooting, Aramis clapped one hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder. ‘Not bad but there’s much room for improvement, lad.” Holding up a single digit in the air Aramis waved it in the youngster’s face. “Then when you’ve mastered muskets you can graduate onto the bigger and better toys.”

Not worrying about the bigger toys just yet, d’Artagnan really had some personal needs to attend to at the moment. “Do you think before I face Athos I could take a short break?” D’Artagnan gave both Musketeers his best lost puppy expression, the one his mother used to say he had perfected in front of a mirror until everyone fell at his feet to do his bidding.

“What did I tell ya about saving that look for the ones who could appreciate it, lad?" Porthos commented dryly, exchanging an amused look with Aramis.

Puzzled, Aramis glanced sideways at Porthos. "You mean it's not working on you?" Aramis shrugged. "It's working on me," he grinned at the boy. "Go on with you, d'Artagnan. Do what needs done," Aramis nodded toward the stables where Athos was feeding Roger, “before Athos has a go at you.”

“Which I will dearly look forward to,” d’Artagnan announced wryly with a roll of his eyes before he ran off.

“I think you frightened the lad,” Porthos punched Aramis hard in the arm, eliciting a yelp from his friend.

“You know I need that arm, don’t you?” Aramis frowned.

“So what,” Porthos scoffed. “The lad doesn’t need to be off balance when he fences with Athos.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Aramis shook his head. “D’Artagnan probably ran off to Constance’s.”

“A nicer woman I have yet to meet, but I think she’s adopted our boy,” Porthos reached for an apple that Aramis had peeking out of his jacket pocket and got his hand slapped for his effort.

“D’Artagnan could use a bit of spoiling after what he’s gone through lately.” Aramis grew sad for the youngster’s recent loss of his father but he ended helping them clear Athos’s good name in the process. Something for which the entire Musketeer regiment were grateful for. And thinking of the devil, here comes his friend now. “Ah! Athos, our faithful dragon in disguise.”

“What’s so amusing, Aramis.” Athos looked at his two comrade’s mischievous faces and wondered where d’Artagnan had gone off too.

“I see a question on your lips, mon ami,” Aramis’s eyes danced as he watched his friend’s brows draw together. “The lad will be back shortly.”

“You two miscreants wore the pup out already, eh?” Athos plucked the apple neatly from Aramis’s pocket without his hand suffering abuse. Taking a nice sized bite out of it, Athos noticed Porthos glaring at Aramis. “Don’t take it to heart, Porthos,” he smirked. “I scare him.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Aramis snagged his huge friend by the arm as he could see Porthos was ready to argue the matter. “Let’s procure you an apple from Serge.”

++++

*Bonacieux’s home*

Rushing into the house, d’Artagnan ran into his room to quickly use the chamber pot and after relieving himself, washed his hands and went into the kitchen where he noticed several loaves of freshly baked baguettes were sitting on the table. Tearing himself off a nice chunk, d’Artagnan began to chew on it as he headed out the door.

“And where are you going in such a hurry?” Constance wiped her flour covered hands on her apron.

“Back to my morning lessons,” d’Artagnan gave her his most charming smile as he continued to chew on the baguette.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Constance berated d’Artagnan as if he were a little boy.

“Apologies,” he shyly ducked his head, “but it looked so tempting I couldn’t resist.

“If you’re lessons aren’t over, why did you come back?” Constance went over to the table to place the still warm baguettes into a basket. 

Feeling the need to be totally honest with her, d’Artagnan told her the truth. “I needed to pee really badly.” His honestly earned him quite a comical look from Constance as her shoulders shook with laughter and then suddenly, just like that she was glaring at him.

“Is that my baguette?” she snapped. Constance hadn't realized what d'Artagnan had been eating and now that she had, was most upset.

“It’s very good,” d’Artagnan said sincerely.

“I’m sure it is since I baked it,” Constance huffed and turned her back to him. “I made an extra loaf to bring over to my neighbor. Seeing as you already started one I’ll be short.”

“Apologies again, Madame.”

“Oh do stop calling me *Madame* in that tone of voice,” Constance was irritated. “It makes me feel quite old.”

“You are hardly that,” d’Artagnan smiled innocently at her surprised look.

“You better not eat anything else or you won’t have room for lunch,” Constance reminded him.

Brushing by her on his way out, d’Artagnan’s voice softened as it whispered past her ears. “Remember, I’m a growing boy.”

His masculine scent lingered in her kitchen long after d’Artagnan left. Shaking herself from impossible thoughts, Constance went about her morning routine.

++++

*Back to the courtyard*

Athos couldn’t resist teasing the youngster as d’Artagnan approached him. “I started to think you changed your mind and ran all the way back to Gascony.”

D’Artagnan’s smile slipped slightly at Athos’s words. “I ummm, had to...” he trailed off ducking his head again as he noticed the other man’s amused eyes. Then shrugging his worries away, d’Artagnan walked closer and took the sword that was offered to him from the older Musketeer. “I prefer my father’s rapier but this will do for practice.” Swishing it around in the air a few times to get the feel of its weight, d’Artagnan felt he was up to the coming challenge and promised himself he would acquit himself well under Athos's tutelage. 

Facing each other, they saluted and began their dance.

“En garde!” Athos yelled and lunged at his younger opponent as he attacked with a thrust of his blade. “Remember, fencing boils down to two areas - footwork and managing your weapon.”

D’Artagnan and Athos circled each other with d’Artagnan managing to parry Athos’s moves, deflecting the sword away from his person the best he could without looking foolish. But it didn’t feel to him as if he were gaining any ground. His own movements felt a tad clumsy. Still he wasn't on the ground yet.

Athos, for his part, wasn’t making it easy for the youngster as he pressed his attack but d’Artagnan still had a few tricks up his sleeves when the boy surprised him with a circle parry. D’Artagnan’s sword twisted in a circle easily catching the tip of Athos’s own blade which deflected it away from the boy.

Smiling, Athos put his rapier down. “You’re quick,” he mused with a nod. “Light on your feet and excellent at changing direction.” Athos grinned as he tapped his blade against d’Artagnan’s rear end. “Well met,” his lips quirked upward. “You’ll do one day.”

Flicking a finger at Athos’s pauldron, d’Artagnan grinned. “I’ve got to earn one of those and get my own fleur-de-lys.” He was all smiles and sweat after sparring with Athos, but he didn’t care for the man’s words meant everything to him.

“Remember one thing above all when using your blade, d’Artagnan.”

“What’s that?”

“Think with your head and not with your emotions,” Athos walked around the boy to lay his sword on the bench. “I fear your Gascon temper may be your downfall one day.”

“I promise to work on it,” d’Artagnan retorted swiftly. Wanting more than anything to impress this man.

“I think you’ve had enough of a workout this morning. Since I’ve already fed Roger why don’t you see to the rest of our horses in the stable and then the four of us can have lunch together in the city.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting that,” d’Artagnan was surprised to be included. “I’ll just let Constance know she doesn’t have to prepare a meal for me.

"You will be one of us soon," Athos pointed out. "Unless it comes at an inopportune time for you, know you are always welcome to join us."

"My thanks," d'Artagnan smiled shyly. As Athos started to walk away from him, he called out, “What happens after lunch?”

“Why we do this all over again unless the captain has an assignment for us.” Tipping his hat, Athos took his leave.

++++

*Captain Treville’s office*

With a quick rap on the door, d’Artagnan barely waited for the officer to tell him to enter before he stepped inside.

“Problem, d’Artagnan?”

“Just please tell me you have a mission for us this afternoon?”

Chuckling, Treville glanced fondly at the lad. “I remember the early days myself when I was a protégé to an older Musketeer.” He put down some papers he held in his hand. “In your case you have three Musketeers to satisfy in that regard.” Picking up a report he stared at it and sent a sly look at the young Gascon. “I just may have an assignment for you to cut your teeth on, my boy.” Treville held in his amusement at the look of absolute relief that crossed d’Artagnan’s youthful features. And to think that this was only the beginning of the boy's adventures.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slight training exercise goes amiss. Well, why wouldn't it? LOL!

*Midway to Saint-Ouen*

“If this was the nice easy mission Treville said you could cut your teeth on,” Porthos grunted as he took down his third bandit in a row with his musket, “I’m gonna have ta have a word with em’.”

Taking down two bandits of his own, d’Artagnan snorted. “The captain never mentioned this would be a cake walk,” he fired off another shot. “Just something to sink my teeth into.”

“I know what I’d like ta sink my teeth into,” Porthos growled as he grabbed another bandit by the leg as he passed by on his horse, jerking the man to the ground, knocking him out, “A thick, juicy steak.” Hearing the boy’s huff of laughter Porthos gave d’Artagnan a wicked grin.

“I hope Athos and Aramis are all right.” D’Artagnan worried about them as they had gotten separated when the ambush took place.

“Don’t worry none,” Porthos’s gruff voice tried to calm the anxiousness he had heard in the lad’s voices. “Those two right know how to land on their feet.”

“Uh uh,” d’Artagnan snorted as he pointed over his left shoulder. “If that’s so why are they both limping?”

“Eh?” Porthos gazed in the direction the youngster was staring at and he swore. “Merde!”

“Porthos, if you cover me I’ll go help them.” D’Artagnan glanced back at the dark-skinned man waiting for him to disagree with his suggestion. But he was startled as he observed Porthos nod and grunt his approval. So much so that he hesitated before dashing off to aid the other two Musketeers. 

++++

Helping each other, it was slow going over the rough terrain. Both Musketeers nearly ended up on their asses so many times they despaired of ever finding their comrades.

“Tell me again what this mission was to accomplish?” Athos asked, irritation clear in his tone.

“An abject lesson for the boy,” Aramis offered with a wince as he jarred his injured leg yet again.

“On what exactly?” Athos snapped. “Lessons in delivering a simple letter?”

“Oh, is that what this was all about?” Aramis chuckled at his friend’s cross look. “Well speak of the little angel,” he nudged Athos lightly in the side, “there he is now,” Aramis chirped. "Guess we were heading in the right direction after all."

“Mmmm, the lad’s quick,” Athos watched as d’Artagnan covered the distance between them as fast as a gazelle.

“Do take care, d’Artagnan!” Aramis yelled out. “Don’t want you riddled full of bullet holes on your first assignment!”

Catching his breath as he joined the injured duo, d’Artagnan shot a wry glance at Aramis. “I’ve been happily dodging those bullets ever since we got separated from you two.”

“We ran into a slight bit of trouble on our end,” Athos commented with a warning glance over at Aramis to keep his mouth shut. But he could tell by the amusement filling his friend’s face that it was not going to happen.

“The shots startled Belle and Roger and they didn’t take kindly to them,” Aramis admitted watching d’Artagnan’s mouth drop open in shock.

Being wise enough not to make any witty remarks in fear of retribution from Athos, d’Artagnan just offered his help instead. “Here let me take Athos’s weight from you, Aramis and I’ll get him to safety first and come back for you.”

“There’s no need to risk your neck again, d’Artagnan,” Aramis gave the young Gascon a cocky grin. “I can hobble along behind you. Now go!”

Holding onto Athos, with one arm cautiously wrapped about the other's waist, d’Artagnan carefully maneuvered the injured man over to where he and Porthos were hunkered down. Aramis, true to his word, hobbled as fast as he could behind them. 

“Ya did it, lad!” Porthos grinned appreciatively. “Athos, you don’t look none too good.” He was going to say more but spotted d’Artagnan shaking his head at him in warning, changing his mind.

“My thanks, d’Artagnan.” Athos grimaced as the youngster helped him sit down, positioning his injured leg in a manner that would cause him the least distress.

“Aramis, do you need anything from your saddlebags?” Hoping to spot Belle at least, d’Artagnan was willing to retrieve the sharpshooter’s horse.

“Yes but I haven’t a clue which direction Belle took off in.?"

“I’ll find her and Roger,” d’Artagnan announced, full of confidence on that score. He went over to Porthos and whispered in the huge man’s ear. “Cover me.”

With a nod and a grunt, Porthos watched as the boy left for the woods again.

Before he could protest, Athos watched the lad race away. “When did I lose control of a simple assignment?” he sighed in displeasure. Worry filled him for their youngest recruit.

“Treville will be most impressed with d’Artagnan’s actions this day,” Aramis hummed happily.

“I suppose he will,” Athos agreed sourly.

“You begrudge the boy that much?” Porthos growled, ready to defend the young pup because he liked the child.

“Non! Don’t put words in my mouth I did not convey, Porthos!” Athos was in pain and frustrated on top of that. “How do you think this will look to Treville?” He noted the blank expression on both of his friend’s faces.

“Qui,” Aramis nodded finally comprehending the point Athos was trying to make. “I understand.”

“Well explain it to me then!” Porthos growled as he kept a watch out for d’Artagnan and the rest of the bandits.

“We are to set d’Artagnan an example,” Athos felt his injured leg and winced from the pain that radiating the whole length. He prayed he hadn’t broken it in his fall. “Not a promising beginning you have to admit.” He scowled at Aramis who quietly snickered.

“Right then, Aramis, you can be the one to tell our captain how two of his highly trained soldiers came off their mounts so easily.” Athos raised one brow as he stabbed the man with a deadly look, instantly wiping off the grin from Aramis’s handsome features.

Both men whipped their heads around as they heard Porthos laughing at them.

“I swear you two are just like little kids,” Porthos shook his head. “I’ll tell you this just once Athos,” his expression turned serious. “That there lad is going to prove to be the best of us.”

Smiling, Aramis nodded in agreement. “How could he not with us three teaching him.”

“That’s debatable,” Athos grumbled, rubbing at his leg again trying to sooth it.

“You know you are a hopeless cynic, Athos,” Aramis teased. His own injury was starting to make itself known to him as he hissed in pain.

“Porthos, any signs of d’Artagnan?” Athos couldn’t position himself properly to observe if the boy had found their missing horses yet.

“Yep!” And as Porthos acknowledged the lad coming their way, more bandits came out of the woods toward their young one. “Oh I ain’t lettin’ anyone touch that boy!” He held a musket in each hand and picked out his targets that were inching closer to d’Artagnan and the horses.

“Mon dieu!” Athos was furious he couldn’t be of any help. Glaring over at Aramis he could see his friend was in much the same position.

As Porthos took aim, his bullets found their marks and he laughed harshly as d’Artagnan whooped in delight giving him a thumb’s up in the process.

Leading Roger and Belle to the others, d’Artagnan soothed the beasts as he tied them to a tree. Opening Aramis’s saddlebags he retrieved the much needed supplies and laid them on the ground before the other Musketeer.

“All right, d’Artagnan, this will be another lesson for you,” Aramis grinned. 

“I’ve tended to injuries on the farm before,” d’Artagnan shrugged, “this couldn’t be much different.”

“Good lad!” Aramis nodded in approval grinning hugely. “We need another field medic aside from me,” he clapped the boy on the shoulder as he instructed d’Artagnan how to set their legs. "They may not be broken but it's best to prevent them be jostled anymore than they have been until we get back to the garrison and the infirmary."

After d’Artagnan followed Aramis’s instructions he glanced up at Porthos. “Any other signs of our bandits?”

“Either we got em’ all or they’re waitin’ for us to break cover,” Porthos’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the surrounding forest for signs of activity.

“Or we could have gotten lucky and they’ve given up heading back from wherever they came from,” d’Artagnan added as he tried to help Athos stand up. “Porthos, help with Aramis if you’d please.”

“Our young pup’s good at giving orders already,” Aramis laughed as he noted Athos’s frown. “Oh don’t worry yet, mon ami,” he smiled. “I’m sure your position as leader of our little band isn’t at risk... yet.”

“You do know that once we are home I will ram those words back down your throat,” Athos sent his longtime friend a menacing glare.

“Pax, you two!” D’Artagnan cried out. “I thought you were *all for one and one for all*. Right now you sound like two squabbling children,” he huffed and was pleased to see Porthos nod in agreement with him, not realizing that the larger Musketeer had pointed that out already to his friends.

“The lad’s right,” Porthos snapped. “I know you’re hurtin’, Athos, but the boy and I have been handling things up to now. It won’t hurt to follow someone else’s orders for a change.” Smirking, Porthos winked at the boy. “Besides, he has to learn to be in charge sometime.”

“He... just... became a... recruit!” Athos spelled out slowly, trying to emphasis his point which clearly wasn’t getting through to any of them.

“Uh, Porthos, let me help you get Aramis up on Belle,” d’Artagnan offered as he stepped away from Athos’s set features.

Once they settled Aramis to his satisfaction, d’Artagnan stepped back over to Athos. But before touching the man, he waited patiently for the all clear. 

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Athos’s blue eyes began to twinkle at the youngster. “Get me on Roger. The faster we get home the faster I can write up this botched mission report to give Treville.”

“Ain’t that botched,” Porthos scoffed. “Between d’Art and I we shot quite a bit of them to pieces.” A quick glance at the lad had Porthos grinning as d’Artagnan winked back at him this time.

“I will endeavor to write that into my report as well,” Athos said dryly, rolling his eyes. Holding up a hand though he added. “Neither of you,” he glared at the youngster and the massive man that stood beside him, “will mention how this accident happened to Aramis and I to anyone other than our captain.” It did not escape his notice that by Porthos giving the boy a nickname that he had been readily accepted by his friend. Athos believed his hesitation in embracing the lad fully stemmed from his memories of Thomas. It was uncanny how the similarities began adding up between his deceased little brother and d'Artagnan. 

“Yes, sir,” d’Artagnan agreed, smothering his amusement as he took in Aramis’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Now, Porthos, would you mind doing the honors and getting Athos on Roger please?”

“Right on it, Captain d’Artagnan,” Porthos sent the boy a mocking salute as Athos’s snort reached his ears. “And, boyo,” Porthos called out to the lad, “me thinks Athos should buy us those steaks I mentioned earlier for rescuing him and Aramis here.”

“Well, what about that, Athos?” Aramis grinned at the man sitting proudly on Roger.

Amusement graced his lips as he could see the merriment dancing in the eyes of all three men before him. “All right,” he reluctantly agreed. “If my purse is to become lighter,” he held out his hand, “it is to a good cause.”

As all four men rode back home, the sun blazed high above them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that have been keeping up with my stories, you will know that Masselin a/k/a Thomas (the Musketeer cat) was given to Queen Anne during my final chapter of the Littlest Musketeer.  
> Sigmund mentioned missing the kitten and it would be nice to see him pop up again somewhere. So in deference to the suggestion I will work Masselin into Crossroads.  
> He will still belong to the queen in this series and still act like he usually does by getting into mischief or creating it for poor d’Art whom he will form an attachment. Plus Athos will act like he’s not afraid of the kitten (which is an in-joke from the Littlest Musketeer).
> 
> ++++

*White Swan Inn*

In the evening, the inseparables and d’Artagnan relaxed to a nice steak dinner courtesy of Athos and his full purse. Earlier in the day after their arrival back at the garrison, Athos and Aramis had been checked out more thoroughly by the infirmary's Doctor Devereaux. D’Artagnan had done an excellent job according to the physician and though the two Musketeer’s legs pained them no bones were broken or even sprained, just badly bruised. 

So as Athos and Aramis hobbled into the tavern, Porthos and d’Artagnan held up the rear just in case they needed to catch their friends should they falter. Though neither man would have ever suggested that to Athos or Aramis who thought they could manage quite well on their own.

“Treville said my report was something to be desired,” Athos stared into his wine glass, which was empty again.

“Desired in a good way or bad?” Aramis quipped as he stabbed his fork into a cut of steak.

“What do you think?” Porthos snorted and shared a look with the boy.

“Our captain said if trouble was out there we would be the ones to find it,” Athos admitted. “Excluding young d’Artagnan since he’s new to our circle.”

“Was that letter awfully important that we were supposed to have delivered?” D’Artagnan leaned back in his chair as he took in all the activity going on around him, sipping his lager slowly.

“Since Treville didn't have much to say on that matter who's to say,” Aramis shrugged carelessly with a small smile tugging at his lips. “But somehow I don’t think it carried anything of great import. It was just a trial run for you, d’Artagnan.”

“Did the captain mention anything on how d’Artagnan handled himself?” Porthos asked as he chewed on a piece of bread.

“Treville mentioned that he thought d’Artagnan acquitted himself quite well considering everything that befell us on this assignment,” Athos’s tone was dry as he reached for another bottle of wine.

Slapping the boy on the back, Porthos grinned at d’Artagnan’s pleased face. “Told ya that you did good.”

Ducking his head, d’Artagnan suddenly felt not worthy of Porthos’s praise.

“I think the youngster’s bashful as well as speechless,” Aramis laughed heartily, sending a fond look at the lad.

“Silence is golden so they say,” Athos remarked drolly as he polished off his dinner.

Noticing the amount of wine that Athos had been consuming since their arrival, d’Artagnan leaned closer to Porthos to whisper his concern. “Isn’t he drinking a bit heavily?”

“Ya see there, boyo,” Porthos whispered back, “there’s a devil riding his back that even Aramis and I know nothin’ about,” he stared down into his own drink, “best keep it that way for now.”

Nodding that he understood, d’Artagnan had something else on his mind as well. “What’s on for tomorrow?” d’Artagnan’s glance roamed over his companion’s faces.

“Well the captain feels since Aramis and I are slightly injured that we should take a few more days to recover,” Athos looked between Porthos and d’Artagnan with keen eyes. “Which doesn’t mean that your lessons, young man, are going to be put aside.” Pointing to Porthos he added, “You’ll be fencing with him on the morrow.”

Grinning, d’Artagnan’s eyes sparkled. “Fine with me if it’s okay with Porthos.”

“And why wouldn’t it be?” Prothos bellowed. “You’re a might more pleasing on the eyes than these two in the morning,” he noticed d’Artagnan’s startled look and figured he'd better explain himself. “Just that I’ve been seeing the same two faces opposite my end of a sword for too many years counting,” Porthos rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “could do with a nicer view for once.”

Nearly spitting out his wine, Athos glared at his huge friend while Aramis covered his mouth to stifle his own amusement. D’Artagnan, who hadn’t expected such a remark to come from Porthos, sputtered lager all over himself.

“No comment to that, Athos?” Aramis wanted to get a rise out of his inscrutable friend.

“Apparently you and I are de trop now that d’Artagnan has joined our numbers,” Athos’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Uh, if you gentlemen will excuse me I believe I’ll retire for the evening.” D’Artagnan thought he should go now before things escalated to such a degree that he may never recover from embarrassment.

“Why, lad, the night’s still young,” Porthos’s brows furrowed.

“And so are you,” Aramis pointed out, seeming a tad upset that the youngster wanted to leave their company so soon.

“Need to get up early if I’m to face Porthos in the morning.”

“I ain’t bothered none by the lateness of the hour,” Porthos snatched at another bottle of wine being carried on a tray as the server passed their table.

“Yes, but I am,” d’Artagnan smiled pleasantly at him. Then his attention was diverted by the sour look on the woman’s face that Porthos took the bottle from. “Uh, don’t look now, Porthos, but I think you have just made an enemy there,” he snickered and got up to leave.

“She’s used to me doin’ that,” Porthos waved at the tavern wench who sniffed in turn, giving him the finger.

“If you say so,” d’Artagnan held back a yawn, he really was tired. “I will see you tomorrow then.” Looking over at Aramis and Athos, he could see the surprise written clearly on their faces. They must have thought he’d change his mind. “I hope you two recover well from your injuries. “Adieu, my friends.”

Watching the boy leave, Aramis shook his head. “Were we ever that young?”

“Nope,” Porthos grunted. “I’d say we three were born old.”

“Some older than others,” Athos muttered as he picked up yet another bottle of wine to refill his consistently empty glass. 

“Or hopelessly naive?” Aramis added with a small huff of laughter which died a quick death at the look Athos sent him.

“He is a simple farm boy from Gascony,” Athos sternly reminded them. “Probably not used to late nights such as these.”

“Didn’t think on it like that,” Porthos grunted. “D’Artagnan’s probably used to hitting the sack early in the evening.”

“And getting up even earlier in the mornings,” Aramis finished as he propped up his aching leg on an empty chair.

“Better have your game on tomorrow then, Porthos,” Athos observed his carefree friend and smiled, “or that youngster could hoist you up on your own petard.”

“I’d like to see em’ try,” Porthos retorted sharply.

“You just may... tomorrow,” Athos raised a brow along with his glass in a salute of sorts.

++++

*Next Morning*

Indeed, come the morning found an extremely hungover Porthos dragging himself from his bed. After his morning ablutions he met d’Artagnan for a light breakfast and then sparring in the courtyard.

But d’Artagnan could tell the previous night still wore heavily on Porthos’s shoulders. “You know, if you like, we could postpone this til later this afternoon when you've had sufficient time to recover.”

“Nah! I’m good,” Porthos’s gruff voice indicated that he didn’t want to delay d’Artagnan’s training any longer than necessary. So after a swift lesson in fencing techniques they got down to business. A short time later found a thoroughly dazed Musketeer on his back staring up at a stunned d’Artagnan. He didn’t know which of them was more shocked at the outcome.

“That’s ten livre you owe me, Athos,” Aramis’s smug face spoke volumes as Athos slapped the coins in the man’s hands. Hearing Aramis laugh gleefully only rubbed the salt harder into the wound.

Swiveling his head to stare at both men, d’Artagnan had heard their words. Chuckling, he walked over to them. “Do you three always bet on everything?”

“Unfortunately,” Athos admitted dryly, shooting Porthos a foul look. “My purse is now even lighter than before thanks to you.”

Running a hand down the side of his face, Porthos had no defense for himself. He was blatantly unprepared for this morning’s match. Hearing another’s laughter coming from somewhere above, Porthos glanced up toward the balcony.

“Well done, d’Artagnan!” Captain Treville congratulated the youngster on a brilliant performance with a few claps of his hands. He had observed the entire thing from his balcony that looked down into the courtyard below. “Did you drink the tavern dry, Porthos?” his blue eyes held a devilish glint. “Thought you held your liquor better than that.”

Not expecting a reply and not getting one, Treville focused on the boy once more. “D’Artagnan, could you run over to the palace and deliver this missive I have for the king?"

“Certainly, sir.” D’Artagnan immediately launched himself up the stairs to accept it from the captain’s hands.

“Don’t dawdle while you’re there either. In and out, understood?” Watching d’Artagnan’s head bob up and down, Treville smiled. “Good, lad. Now off with you.”

Watching d’Artagnan hastily disappear from view, the three inseparables ambled over to one of the benches.

Stabbing his friend with a hurt look, Porthos refused to hold back. “Aramis, I can’t believe you bet against me.”

“My dear good man, I may love you like a brother but even I know your weaknesses,” Aramis grinned. “Plus I’ve seen that boy in action and so have you when he went after Guadet.” Thinking more about their youngest brother, there was something that gave him pause. “D’Artagnan had some moves I have never seen used before.”

Grunting, Porthos knew he had to agree with his friend. “The youngster's father probably taught him those.”

“Maybe we’re getting too old for this job,” Athos threw out, more as a quip than anything else. He was amazed that his two comrades believed him to be serious as they gazed back at him incredulous.

“I’m fit as ever!” Porthos barked, folding his arms to stare back at him fiercely.

“As am I!” Aramis snapped, feeling affronted on every end conceivable.

Shaking with laughter, Athos just stared in bemusement at them both. “My attempt at levity appears to be dismal at best.”

“That’s because you so rarely indulge in it,” Aramis tilted his head slightly as he observed the man.

“Ah, yes, there is that,” Athos dipped his head, hiding his laughing blue eyes underneath the rim of his hat.

“I say,” Aramis just had a thought occur to him, “did anyone bother showing d’Artagnan where the royal palace is?”

“Mon dieu!” Athos banged his head on the table top.

“Never fear, gents,” Treville announced as he passed by them, “I did.”

++++

*Royal Palace*

His delivery of the missive went smoothly for d’Artagnan. As he was about to leave the palace something soft bounced off his foot. Glancing down he stared into bright, green eyes belonging to a tiny, white kitten. Used to animals of all sorts, d’Artagnan went to his knees and let the kitten climb up into his lap. “Aren’t you a sweet little thing,” he murmured low and chuckled as he heard the kitten purr.

“Oh, there he is!” A woman’s voice exclaimed off in the distance.

Looking up, d’Artagnan faced a lovely woman adorned in pearls and lace. Never having seen a portrait of the queen he had no idea whose company he was in, only that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“His name’s Masselin,” she smiled at the young man. Not recognizing him, Anne figured he was new to matters at court. And by the way he was acting in her presence, more than likely had no idea who she was. Anne actually found it quite refreshing. Probably the boy thought she was a lady-in-waiting.

Standing back up, kitten in his arms, d’Artagnan handed Masselin over to her care. ‘I’m d’Artagnan, in training to become a Musketeer,” he bowed formally before her.

“It’s a delight to meet a new recruit in his Majesty’s regiment,” Anne smiled with sincerity into the youngster’s earnest, brown eyes.

“May I have the pleasure of knowing to whom I am speaking with, Mademoiselle... Madame?” 

“If it were not for Masselin escaping from me our introductions would have been done properly while in the company of my husband,” Anne paused for a fraction of a second, “King Louis.”

Shocked to the core that he was in the presence of Queen Anne, d’Artagnan’s color bled away to leave him a sickly white. He was so embarrassed he couldn’t look her in the eyes any longer. “I had no idea,” he mumbled into his chest.

“I gathered that much,” Anne’s eyes twinkled. “Now that I have given it some thought, I believe I have overheard Captain Treville inform Louis about you.”

“I confess, I was simply here to drop off a letter from the captain and then just leave." Glancing at Masselin’s small, curious face, d’Artagnan grinned, “But I got unexpectedly detained by that white bit of fluff you're holding.”

“Ah!” Anne laughed gayly. “Masselin has a knack for causing trouble,” she studied him briefly, “do you?”

“Time will tell,” d’Artagnan gave her his most innocent expression.

“Well I must be off.” Anne liked what she had seen so far in the young man before her. She prayed he would do well and be able to fulfill his dream. “I hope our paths cross again soon.” Looking down at Masselin, Anne shot d’Artagnan a strange look. “I think my kitten feels the same way and he has excellent taste.”

Blinking his eyes, d’Artagnan was amazed at the queen’s words. Bowing again, he watched her turn and walk away, Masselin’s tiny head peeking out back at him.


	6. Chapter 6

Shortly after leaving the palace, d’Artagnan was on his way back to report to Captain Treville when his body collided with that of another. “I do beg your pardon,” he was flustered as the *body* belonged to another beautiful woman. This one was as dark as the queen had been fair. D’Artagnan noted that she had the exact eye color as Masselin which shone a lovely shade of green in the bright sunlight.

“It is my fault as well, Monsieur,” she smiled demurely.

“Still, I am not in the habit of knocking women off their feet.”

“Unless, perhaps,” she sighed, “it would be in the boudoir?” her lips turned up prettily as she flirted outrageously with the boy. Seeing him blush, she was astounded. “New to Paris?” she hummed softly.

“Uh, er... well,” d’Artagnan usually was not at a loss for words but this woman’s remark put him off balance. Feeling the heat in his cheeks just made him blush all the more. He would have kicked himself if he could have reached his rear end for acting like such a farm boy. Thinking it better to cut his losses and run, d’Artagnan’s feet didn’t seem to get the message as he stood rooted to the spot as he was still captivated by her charms.

“My I ask your name?” she fluttered her long lashes at him while twirling a piece of her hair around a finger.

When his brain actually registered that the older woman appeared to be flirting with him, he couldn’t wait to tease Aramis later. Telling the vain man that one need not be a Musketeer to attract a beautiful woman should put a dent in Aramis’s over large ego where the fairer sex was concerned. “It’s d’Artagnan.”

“I’m known as Milady de Winter,” she pursed her lips thoughtfully, “you may call me Milady.”

“Well it has certainly been a pleasure, Milady,” looking up in the air briefly d’Artagnan thought perhaps pleasure wasn’t quite the word since he had nearly caused her an injury. “Not the part where I bumped you...” he stopped blabbering as she held up a hand.

“No need for further apologies, d’Artagnan,” Milady enjoyed the way this boy’s name rolled off her tongue. She could almost taste him as her eyes devoured his good looks.

Nodding in appreciation that she had understood his bumbling attempts, d’Artagnan smiled. “I do hope we run into each other again soon.” Taking a well manicured hand that she had extended into his own, he gently pressed a light kiss on top of it. “Adieu.”

“Adieu, my young gallant.” We shall meet again Milady thought watching d’Artagnan saunter away from her... she knew exactly who he was.

++++

*Captain Treville’s office*

“I see you’ve survived delivering my letter,” Treville chuckled as the boy seemed surprised at his words. “Took you a bit longer than I thought it would.” Cocking his head to one side he listened as d’Artagnan explained his tardiness.

 

“When I was leaving the palace I... uh,” d’Artagnan wasn’t sure how this part may make him look in the captain’s eyes but pressed on anyway, “er met the queen’s cat.”

“Ah!” Treville smiled at the youngster’s discomfort. “Masselin made himself known to you it would seem.”

There was a wealth of meaning carried in that one little *ah* and it made d’Artagnan more curious than ever. “You know of the kitten, sir?”

“Oh yes,” Treville snorted in amusement. “He rules the palace with just a swish of his white tail.”

“He’s adorable,” d’Artagnan blurted out carelessly, having a fondness for most small creatures. Knowing his captain was waiting for him to explain further, he suddenly discovered a great interest in his boots, staring down at them intently.

“I think perhaps there is more to this tale than just meeting Masselin,” Treville surmised. “Am I right, lad?”

“Someone came looking for the kitten and we exchanged pleasantries,” d’Artagnan still felt uncomfortable talking about this, hoping he wouldn’t be in deep trouble with Treville. “It was Queen Anne.”

Treville’s mouth opened and closed twice without him uttering a single syllable until he could get his voice to obey him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear anymore but waved his hand for d’Artagnan to carry on.

“She was very nice to me and delighted I had found her kitten,” d’Artagnan shrugged, “or rather Masselin found me.”

“More than likely the latter,” Treville remarked wryly.

“Queen Anne even said she hoped to see me again and wished me well in my training.”

“Mmmm, well, it would appear you’ve impressed her Majesty,” Treville responded gruffly. “What of Masselin?”

“She felt that her kitten had good taste in liking me,” d’Artagnan ducked his head once again, feeling his face flush with heat again. It was a damnable trait he thought he would outgrow but it lingered despite his eighteen years.

“Of that I quite agree,” Treville stood up, leaned forward and place his hands on top of his desk. “Now I believe you have a fencing lesson with Athos shortly and firearms practice with Aramis directly afterwards.”

“Yes!” d’Artagnan crowed pumping a fist high in the air exuberantly. Realizing he should curtail such actions in the future he locked eyes with the captain. “Apologies for my outburst, sir.”

“None needed, lad. I love to see enthusiasm for one’s work,” Treville’s hand pointed toward the door. “Now off with you.”

++++

*Musketeer courtyard*

This time it was d’Artagnan who found himself on his back staring up at a smug Athos. Seeing the older Musketeer holding out his hand, d’Artagnan gratefully accepted it and let the man haul him back up. “My thanks.”

“For helping you off your ass or for the lesson?”

“I’ve got a lot to learn,” d’Artagnan sighed, his spirits ebbed slightly. He admitted to himself that he had been buoyed up from his victory over Porthos this morning and let it go to his head. Well Athos brought him down to earth good and hard with a few well placed blows.

“Do not underestimate your talents, d’Artagnan,” Athos tapped the youngster lightly underneath the chin with his rapier. “Though they may be raw, there is great potential there.”

Usually a man of few words, unless when in command of a mission, Athos’s praise meant a great deal to d’Artagnan. “Still, I have a long way to go.”

“Before you do so,” Aramis laughed heartily, “you and I have a date with our muskets.” Seeing the youngster grin back, Aramis jauntily walked over to the bench where he had placed the weapons. Throwing one of the muskets at d’Artagnan he was pleased to see how easily the lad caught it.

Looking the weapon over, d’Artagnan glanced sideways at Athos. “You better stand clear just in case.”

One brow raised as Athos’s sharp blue eyes acknowledged the boy’s warning.

“Athos is safe for the moment,” Aramis said. “You first have to learn how to load it properly,” He saw d’Artagnan frown at his comment. “Or do you already know how?”

“Non,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “It was just the manner in which you phrased it.”

“Sometimes Aramis’s words come off sounding like a stuffy teacher no-it-all,” Porthos added as he was observing the lesson from the steps to Treville’s office.

“Apologies if I came off that way, d’Artagnan,” Aramis picked up his own musket. “Now at the risk of sounding like a professor of weaponry we shall begin.”

Watching the Musketeer carefully, d’Artagnan mimicked his efforts. Holding his own weapon vertically he poured a charge of priming powder down the muzzle. Then after ramming a ball and wad of cloth down on top of it, returned it to firing position. As d'Artagnan waited for Aramis to take the first shot, as expected, the marksman hit the bullseye dead on.

“Aramis, it felt like it took forever to load it,” d’Artagnan’s frustration could be heard as he fired at his own target, missing the center red marking.

“Not bad, d’Artagnan,” Aramis smirked. “Still, mine is better of course.”

“Quit your braggin’,” Porthos growled. “The lad’s shot was nearly dead center.”

“Yes but in a fight *nearly* doesn’t count,” Aramis countered with a genuine smile sent d’Artagnan’s way. “But I believe our young one had complained about the length of time it took to prime his musket.”

“Not complaining exactly, “d’Artagnan hemmed and hawed, then frowned. Actually he guessed it sounded more like whining to the others.

“Practice makes perfect, my boy,” Aramis grinned. “When you become adept such as us, it should only take you between thirty seconds to a minute to complete the task.”

“Now, lad, why don’t you and I throw some daggers?” Porthos went to set up the other targets. “You’re spot on in the throwing department, but I have a few tricks I think you’d benefit from.” Pointing a thumb over at Athos and Aramis he winked at the boy. “Those two couldn’t master em’ but I *know* you will.” Porthos took great delight in sharing a weakness his two comrades had in common. Plus it did his heart good to tell something like that to the boy, seeing the pleased smiled he wormed out of d'Artagnan.

“Is he talking about us?” Aramis pretended hurt feelings as he pouted.

“I do believe he is,” Athos’s blue eyes twinkled.

“Let’s leave them to it then.” Aramis nudged Athos in the ribs.

“I have to see the captain anyway.” With a nod at Porthos and the young man, Athos headed upstairs to see Treville.

“So where you off too, Aramis?” Porthos playfully threw his dagger up and down in the air, catching it by the hilt each time.

“A certain lady has been waiting for me to come calling,” Aramis put his hat on, tilting it to one side and gave it a gentle pat. “Since there’s no coming mission on our agenda I’m done being a teacher for the day and figured I’d pay her a call.” Whistling a gay tune, Aramis walked past them.

“He has a way with women I’ll say that for em’,” Porthos rolled his eyes and laughed hard as he heard the youngster’s loud snorts beside him.

“Oh drat!” d’Artagnan exclaimed out loud. He forgot to boast to Aramis about his own conquest of sorts with Milady. Well there would be time enough for bragging rights later.

“Something wrong, d’Artagnan?”

“Non. Just something I need to tell Aramis another time.”

++++

*Later afternoon*

“We will be on parade tomorrow as the king awaits some vistiors,” Athos informed his trio of friends as they currently enjoyed dinner.

“Is d’Artagnan comin’?” Porthos downed his glass of wine in one go.

“Yes,” Athos’s attentive gaze caught the surprised one of d’Artagnan’s.

“Parades are not at all glamorous so if you were thinking along those lines best get that thought out of your head now,” Athos warned the boy.

“Please, Athos,” Aramis put in sourly, “we’re here to encourage the lad not scare him off.”

Porthos’s heavy laughter had many a head turned his way to see what was so amusing.

“What Athos is ever so politely trying to tell you, d’Artagnan,” Aramis glared at their leader, “is that at times you have to stand under a hot sun for hours without a break.”

“And,” Porthos held up a warning hand, “you have to do your best not to pass out from it either. It’s right embarrassin’.” Pushing his empty plate aside, Porthos dark eyes gleamed as he noted d’Artagnan’s rapt attention focused on them. “And ifin it’s raining cats or dogs you have to weather that storm as well.” 

“You don’t move a muscle out of place even if you have to cough or sneeze,” Aramis added, his mood serious for once as he wanted d’Artagnan to heed their words of advice.

“Try not to do either one of those if you please,” Athos supplied as he sipped his wine.

Laughing into his own wine glass, d’Artagnan’s eyes sparkled. “Aramis, you’re worse than Athos over here,” he rolled his eyes. “That goes for you too, Porthos.”

The three inseparables could have sworn d’Artagnan had called them *mother hens* underneath his breath but since they were all a bit soused they couldn’t be sure and let it go. So after all the dire warnings of parades they spent the remainder of their time with just good companionship between them.

++++

*Next day on parade*

“It’s not that hot,” d’Artagnan muttered to Aramis who stood next to him. The marksman shooshed him back making d’Artagnan stare at him oddly. “Can’t we talk either,” he mumbled. “Don’t remember that being on the list of things one does not do while on parade.”

“Not supposed too,” Porthos whispered over Athos shoulder.

With an abrupt nod, d’Artagnan got it and also got Athos’s cold glare in turn.

The king and queen were happily engaged talking to their guests for the day. Anne was so engrossed in their conversation that she forgot to keep track of her cat. So it was that Masselin had his own agenda to see too and set off on his own.

Staring straight ahead, not making eye contact with anyone, d’Artagnan felt something attacking his boot. When he dared to glance down it was to stare into green eyes surrounded by white, fluffy fur. He tried, he really did to not pay attention to the little antagonist, but Masselin would not be swayed as he seeked attention.

Seemed the small cat was determined in his effort to get d’Artagnan into trouble, whether the kitten knew it or not.

“Go away,” d’Artagnan hissed fiercely, praying all the while that neither of their Majesty’s focused their attention on him. He could only be so lucky.

Just realizing Masselin had disappeared on her, Anne craned her neck trying to locate him. When her eyes finally caught sight of the mischievous kitten, she covered her mouth trying not to giggle.

“Care to share your amusement with me, my dear?” Louis was getting bored already and looked for something to distract him from talks on politics and the such. He would leave it up to Richelieu and his captain to carry on.

“Remember I told you that Masselin formed an attachment to your newest recruit, d’Artagnan?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “What about it?”

“Look over there,” Anne pointed to where the youngster stood with the other Musketeers.

“I say, the boy looks fit to be tied,” Louis chuckled as he reached for a glass of wine being served to him by one of the pages. “Let’s put the poor child out of his misery,” his eyes danced. “D’Artagnan!” he called out.

Not realizing the king had actually addressed him by name, d’Artagnan was still trying hard to not pay Masselin any attention. Sadly it wasn’t working. Trying to decide if it was worth it to just pick up the menacing traitor and carry him over to Queen Anne, d’Artagnan scowled down at the kitten’s cute face.

“D’Artagnan,” Treville barked, “King Louis has been calling you.”

Snapping his head back up so fast it nearly made him dizzy, d’Artagnan’s eyes widened in horror. “Me?” he squeaked. Hearing Athos’s quiet moaning on the other side of him did nothing for d’Artagnan’s already frayed nerves. When Aramis and Porthos’s soft laughter reached his ears he was mortified beyond belief that this could happen to him his first and probably last time on parade.

Breaking form, d’Artagnan surged forward on shaky legs to bow before their Majesty’s.

“I believe you have acquired an admirer that belongs to my queen,” Louis noted the blank expression on the boy’s face and realized d’Artagnan did not catch his meaning. “I am talking of my beloved’s cat, Masselin.”

Shaking himself from his stupor, d’Artagnan’s head bounced up in down in acknowledgment that he understood. Picking up the kitten that was still doing its best trying to crawl up his pant leg, d’Artagnan sighed in resignation. “I am so, so very sorry about this.”

“Why are you aplogizing?” Queen Anne watched the antics of her pet and had to admit that Masselin did indeed have great taste. “Masselin is the one responsible,” her eyes glanced down at the cat, “you’re a naughty little thing trying to get d’Artagnan into trouble.”

Since Masselin couldn’t actually talk back to her he hissed instead and got a sharp reprimand from d’Artagnan. Shaking the kitten gently, he held the cat up to his face, staring nose to nose with it. “That is your queen, Masselin! You shall honor her and show proper respect.” he talked to the kitten as if it understood every word and perhaps Masselin did as it appeared to meekly bow its head and meow softly.

Engrossed in dressing down the obstinate, small cat, the sounds of clapping finally reached d’Artagnan’s ears. When he looked back over at their Majesty’s he realized that it came from the king. Embarrassed, flushing to the roots of his hair, he managed to deposit Masselin safely into Queen Anne’s arms.

“I say, d’Artagnan,” Louis laughed gayly, “I can visualize you in command of your own army one of these days when you’ve added a few more years onto your shoulders.”

Not knowing how to respond to the king’s remark, d’Artagnan gave him a sickly smile, bowed low and re-joined the others back into parade stance. He didn’t glance left or right, knowing the looks he’d be on the receiving end of. But his gaze did lock onto his captain’s.

“Words escape me for the moment.” Treville’s tone held mirth and not anger. “Masselin has struck again it would seem.”

“Looks like that cat has plans to keep our young one in their Majesty’s sights,” Aramis’s lips twitched as he kept a straight face, not daring to laugh under the circumstances.

“Er, d’Artagnan,” Treville motioned with a hand toward the king and queen. “I think their Majesty’s are trying to gain your attention again.”

“Mon dieu!” d’Artagnan wished a hole would open up in the ground and swallow him whole. 

“It is a good thing to be noticed by the royal couple, d’Artagnan.” Treville stood beside the young man, turned him around to face the king and queen and gave him a gentle shove back in their direction.


	7. Chapter 7

*Next day, Richelieu’s office*

“Can you cultivate the boy?” Richelieu observed Milady closely. She was one of his most worthwhile agents and a deadly one. 

“My charms have not failed me so far, your Eminence,” she peered out a window watching Musketeers at practice.

“Good,” Richelieu seemed pleased. “This Gascon helped in clearing Athos’s name, much to my regret.”

“Ah, yes!” Milady chuckled. “He killed Gaudet, didn’t he?”

“You know very well that is what he did,” Richelieu snapped, not wanting to remember the disastrous consequences that could have arisen if it were found out he was behind everything.

Walking around his desk, Milady reached out to rub her fingertips against the cardinal’s temples. This always worked in the past whenever things did not go his way and he became agitated.

“Not that it isn’t welcome,” Richelieu said dryly, “but whenever you seek to help me in this fashion I end up filling your purse.”

Giggling, Milady kept up the motion until she heard the cardinal sigh in satisfaction. “Tis better, oui?”

“You know that it is you vixen,” he chuckled. “Now how much do you want?”

“This time it is not money I will ask for,” Milady smiled coyly. “I would like your promise to leave Athos to me and not interfere with my recruitment of young d’Artagnan.”

“All right,” he stared at her curiously. “It will be two less tasks for me to worry about.”

“My thanks,” Milady didn’t want to overplay her hand. If things worked out the way she had imagined they would, she’d be killing two birds with one stone. Though Milady would rather tie d’Artagnan to her side indefinitely if she could. She could bide her time, no sense in rushing matters and making a hash out of it. Matter of fact she just may put her plan in motion today.

++++

*Paris, a few hours later*

Everyone but him had something to do today and it left d’Artagnan with time on his hands. Treville didn’t need him for anything either and had told him to get acquainted with city life. So that’s how he came to be walking down the streets of Paris alone. Urchins were located on nearly every corner trying to sell something or, if the opportunity arose, steal you blind. It was a good thing he only had a few sou on him in case one of them decided to pick his pockets. They certainly wouldn’t be the richer for it.

As he looked in the windows of the many businesses he walked past, d’Artagnan was accosted by various prostitutes who plied their trade openly. Being from Gascony did not mean he was a total innocent to the ways of the fairer sex. Aramis may have the lead on that one but d’Artagnan had made a conquest or two back in Lupiac. He remembered his father commenting on it during their trip to Paris, that he had left one or two broken hearts behind him.

Thoughts of that brought the memory of meeting Milady to mind. Now that woman looked like she could teach him a thing or two in the bedroom. D’Artagnan’s past experiences probably wouldn’t match the many lovers he was sure Milady had taken to her bed. She gave the appearance of one being highborn and d’Artagnan wondered if Milady was or just pretended to be. If so, she would be used to bedding the gentry and not someone of his low means. Milady was probably just having fun at his expense.

But in this d’Artagnan found he was quite incorrect as the woman on his mind materialized beside him. Stunned at her sudden appearance, he stuttered. “What… what… are you… doing here?”

Amused by his reaction, Milady tapped him lightly on the arm with her fan. “I was making some purchases at the bakery across the street.” She held up a bag for him to see. “Perhaps you would care to share some of them with me?”

If he wanted her to take him seriously, which he did, d’Artagnan felt he better not act like a country bumpkin. “Oui,” he smiled at her, “I’m all yours for the rest of the day."

“And the night, mon ami?” Milady playfully trailed the fingers of one hand up d’Artagnan’s chest until he caught it in his own. Bringing it to his lips he kissed each of her fingertips, lingering on the last one. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Tucking her arm into his, Milady led the way to her apartment.

++++

*Milady’s residence*

“You have a pleasant home,” d’Artagnan remarked as he moved freely about.

“There’s always room for one more,” Milady purred, noticing d’Artagnan’s shock at her proposal. “Come now,” she chided sweetly, “you act as if you’ve never been propositioned before.”

“Not to actually live with someone,” d’Artagnan damned himself for acting like the youth he was and not the man she thought him to be. “Perhaps once our acquaintance has deepened,” he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. It hadn't even occurred to him until her offer whether or not she was married and d'Artagnan didn't know how to go about asking the question without showing Milady how much it would bother him if she were.

“Where are you currently staying?” Milady waited while her maid Kitty set the table with the delicious delicacies she had bought.

“The Bonacieux’s home,” d’Artagnan replied, watching the pretty, little maid bring out a tea set and arrange everything just so.

“Mmmm, oh yes, the draper,” Milady wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“I like it,” d’Artagnan’s voice hardened at her expression. Constance had done everything to make him feel welcomed into her home and he wouldn't have anyone belittle her actions.

“If you like living in close quarters with that man,” she commented in a bored tone. “I met him once,” Milady shrugged. “Can’t say he impressed me," she made a unladylike snort. "Bonacieux reminded me too much of my dead husband."

“Madame Bonacieux more than makes up for whatever her husband may lack in the social graces.” And now d'Artagnan had his answer and was delighted to know Milady was unencumbered by marriage vows.

“Ah, d’Artagnan,” Milady chuckled, “you have a tendre for the wife perhaps?”

“Non!” he laughed her question away feeling his cheeks heat up. “But Constance is an excellent cook,” he couldn't quite meet Milady's eyes as his words tumbled out. “Besides, she is a married woman.”

“I know many a man that wouldn’t be bothered by those shackles,” Milady remarked offhand. She was glad of his answer though, fearing she may have competition for d’Artagnan’s affections. “They do say a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” she grinned impishly as Milady popped a petit four into her mouth, holding out another in her hand for the boy. As he took it from her, she actually purred in contentment.

“I think you and I are going to deal well with one another," Milady laughed gayly. "It bodes well for the future.” Leaning forward Milady began to use her tongue to lick off the remains of icing around d’Artagnan’s mouth.

“I suddenly find I’m in the mood for more than just sweets,” d’Artagnan growled low as he nipped at Milady’s lower lip.

“For food or for me?” she teased. 

Grabbing her in a fierce embrace, d’Artagnan bit her on the side of her neck. “What do you think?” he whispered in her ear.

++++

*Hours later*

Stretching like a satisfied cat, Miliady turned on her stomach and watched the young man’s chest rise and fall in sleep. D’Artagnan had turned out to be a welcome delight in the boudoir, much to her pleasure. There was more to the boy than met the eye. Then again she had become rather bored of late with her former suiters. It was coming to the point where none of them came up to snuff in her estimation. D’Artagnan proved her wrong in this. He had quite a talented tongue and used it well on her behalf. Milady was going to enjoy amusing herself with this youngster and hopefully cause Athos’s downfall in the process.

Coming slowly awake, d’Artagnan’s drowsy gaze took in Milady’s lovely face as she was watching him. Reaching out a finger, d’Artagnan toyed with a charm dangling from her choker. “Do you ever remove it? I noticed one on you when we first met.”

She didn’t stop him when d’Artagnan’s fingers pulled the material of her choker aside to see the deep scarring around her neck it protected. Milady felt the boy tenderly trace the marks with a finger as his frown deepened.

“What happened?” D’Artagnan turned on his side, propping himself up on an elbow.

“A man I loved tried to murder me.”

“Say the word and I’ll kill him for you.”

Milady paused, astounded at this youngster’s bold words. “I may hold you to that one day.” Leaning over she kissed him passionately on the mouth. “Can you stay the rest of this evening with me?”

“I’ve been gone the better part of the day as it is so I should show my face to my friends at least.”

“Pity,” Milady sighed playfully as she got out of the bed, completely unconcerned about her nudity, to retrieve her dressing gown draped over a chair. Shrugging into it, she glanced over her shoulder at him and pouted. “There will be more opportunities for us I’m sure.”

“Oh I do hope so,” d’Artagnan agreed fervently with all his heart. Then getting up he found his own clothes and quickly dressed. When he was done Milady was sitting in front of her night stand. Joining her, he bent low to kiss one bare shoulder. “Until next time.”

“Adieu, d’Artagnan.” Milady watched the boy leave with mixed feelings. She hadn’t planned on getting attached so quickly to him. She had vowed, ever since her marriage to Athos, to never let a man control her life again. Though through circumstance she has let the cardinal rule her life to a certain degree. But as needs must, Milady promised herself there would come a time to shed those chains to his Eminence. Perhaps even bringing Richelieu down a peg or two in the process.

++++

*The Haven Tavern*

“About time, boy!” Porthos shouted in greeting, waving the youngster over to their table.

“Where have you been all this time?” Aramis poured the youth a glass of wine. “We missed you.”

Sitting next to Athos, d’Artagnan took the proffered glass from Aramis. “My thanks.” Sipping on it slowly he thought carefully on what he would say. Feeling a finger pulling his shirt slightly away from his neck, d’Artagnan batted it away to glare at Athos.

Amusement danced in the older Musketeer’s blue eyes as Athos watched d’Artagnan blush. “I think the boy’s had a most enjoyable time in the city.”

“Stop it do!” d’Artagnan nudged Athos in the shoulder.

“You’re all red in the face, lad,” Porthos teased. “Ya feelin’ all right?”

“If you’re both done poking fun at me I’ll attempt to answer Aramis’s question,” d’Artagnan snorted.

“Oui, do tell us what lovely lady has turned your head this day,” Aramis sat back in his seat, sipping his wine.

“I’ve made her acquaintance prior before today and really had thought our paths would not cross again.”

“Apparently you were wrong,” Athos commented dryly, arching an eyebrow.

“She found me wandering the streets and invited me to her home,” d’Artagnan admitted shyly.

“And...,” Aramis urged, wanting to find out who this mysterious creature was.

“She’s quite beautiful,” d’Artagnan sighed as he remembered their lovemaking of earlier.

“Damn, boy!” Porthos slammed his glass down on the table so hard that it shook. “What’s her name,” he growled, “you’ve danced all around it.”

“Milady de Winter,” d’Artagnan smirked at his friends.

“Married?” Aramis seemed amused at d’Artagnan’s attitude.

“Widowed.”

“Convenient,” Athos murmured softly.

“I say,” Aramis chuckled, “that’s luck for you. “At least d’Artagnan doesn’t have to worry about a cuckold husband chasing him out a window.”

“Talking from experience, Aramis?” d’Artagnan teased.

“It only happened once,” Aramis said in self defense.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, d’Artagnan,” Athos didn’t want to burst the boy’s bubble but he was new to Paris and not schooled in all the ways to protect himself, “but is Milady a woman of means?”

“I believe so,” d’Argagnan gazed at him curiously, “why does that matter?”

“Dalliances are all the rage among the rich,” Athos stared into his glass. “I don’t want to see you get hurt when it ends.

“But, Athos, an older woman would be an excellent teacher for our d’Artagnan to cut his teeth on,” Aramis put in.

Nearly choking on his wine as it went down the wrong pipe, d’Artagnan scowled at the handsome Musketeer. “Who says I need taught?”

“Right, boyos,” Porthos grunted. “Gettin’ into dangerous territory now.”

“Don’t worry,” d’Artagnan relaxed again. “I get the impression I could be just a passing fancy for her anyway,” he shrugged. “But I can still have some fun before the romance dies a cold death.”

“How old did you say you were?” Aramis quipped, earning laughter all around.

“Old enough to know when someone is attracted to me,” d’Artagnan grinned, his brown eyes twinkled with mirth.

“Love can bedevil a man,” Athos remarked somberly. “Beware of beautiful women, d’Artagnan, they’ll do you a mischief in the end.”

“Do you expect the child to live like a monk for the rest of his life as you do, Athos?”

“You’re quite right, Aramis, I am not exactly the role model d’Artagnan needs where women are concerned,” Athos admitted wryly.

“I’m a big boy now and can well take care of myself,” d’Artagnan snorted. “No one has to keep vigil late at night waiting up for me anymore.”

“I bet you led your parents a merry dance back in Lupiac,” Porthos grabbed a serving wench as she walked past, giving her a little squeeze.

“I do remember a time or too crawling up the trellis that led to my bedroom late at night,” d’Artagnan ducked his head at his admission. The wine must have loosened his tongue. 

“Did your parents ever find out?” This was a side of the boy that hadn’t been revealed to them since they brought d’Artagnan into their small circle. Athos was pleased that the young man was sharing even this small portion of himself with them. It was of great interest to know something of the child’s past.

“One time my window was locked and without any other entrance to my room I was forced to knock on the door,” d’Artagnan sighed. “You can guess who answered it.”

“Your pe’re was upset I bet,” Porthos laughed heartily at the image that brought to mind of a young boy facing his angry father.

“You don’t know the half of it,” d’Artagnan smiled as he remembered the reaming he earned that night.

Not wanting the lad to become uncomfortable, Athos thought it was time to change the topic. “All right,” Athos cleared his throat, “enough talk of women, married or otherwise and of past indiscretions.” Gazing fondly at d’Artagnan, he bumped his shoulder against the boy’s. “Tell us what you thought of Paris.”


	8. Chapter 8

*Next day - Musketeer Garrison*

Despite the lateness of the hour in which he had retired the night prior, d’Artagnan had risen early and at present was grooming Zad. And if time permitted he had plans to do the same for Roger, Belle and Roulette.

His mind kept taking him back to the pleasant interlude he had with Milady and her considerable charms, which made him start whistling a merry tune, much to the pleasure of his horse.

While he was going about his business, d’Artagnan didn’t realize he had an audience listening in, one with green eyes and a white, furry coat. It wasn’t until Masselin jumped on top of a post near his shoulder and started mewling that d’Artagnan discovered the cat’s presence.

Jumping back, dropping his brush, d’Artagnan had to steady himself against Zad, the latter had danced back a few paces as d’Artagnan had stumbled into him. “Merde!” Glaring at the kitten who suddenly became quiet, he picked up his brush. “Oh now you play the innocent,” he huffed as he brandished the brush at Masselin. “If you don’t be careful you’ll be next.” D’Artagnan muttered to himself that it was a good thing his friend’s hadn’t been witness to him being startled by the little creature.

“There you are!”

Recognizing that voice, d’Artagnan’s hand froze as he was brushing Zad’s tail out. Daring to turn around, he spied Queen Anne at the entrance to the stable. He could see her guards ever present just behind her. “Ummm, isn’t it a bit early for you to be up and about, your Majesty... and in the stable of all places?”

“I like the peace and quiet this time of day brings, d’Artagnan.” She joined him and ran her hand gently down Zad’s long mane. Then turning to face her cat, Anne held out her arms for Masselin to jump into. But in this, her kitten surprised her as Masselin jumped onto d’Artagnan’s shoulder instead.

Chuckling, d’Artagnan turned his head to stare into the clear, green cat eyes that were blinking at him. Facing her Majesty’s chagrin, he smiled shyly. “I don’t know what to say.” Reaching for Masselin he placed the kitten where he belonged, with Queen Anne. Then d’Artagnan continued on to Roger’s stall. “I can’t believe you chased him all the way over here.”

“Sometimes,” Queen Anne confided to the boy softly, “I feel Masselin is my only true friend and I did not want to see anything bad befall him.”

Shocked by her honest words, d’Artagnan was left nearly speechless. Just as quietly he added what was in his own heart. “I’d like to think that you can always count on me being your friend as well, your Majesty.”

The smile she graced the youngster with was more dazzling than the morning sun that was now overlooking the courtyard. “I will hold you to that promise, d’Artagnan.” As a distraction, Queen Anne busied herself with Masselin as the tiny kitten attempted to crawl up her shoulder. 

“Know that you are always welcomed by me and the king at the palace anytime, d’Artagnan.” Her fingers brushed the boy’s cheek in a farewell gesture as Queen Anne left the stable.

The queen had shocked him once again with her words and after her departure, d’Artagnan was bemused as he stared at Roger’s calm presence. “What just happened?”

++++

*Captain Treville’s office*

“Athos, how’s d’Artagnan’s training coming along?”

“I’m surprised how fast the boy’s reflexes are and how quickly he catches on to the elements we have been teaching him.”

“Well some of that work is thanks to d’Artagnan’s father.”

“Yes, you mentioned him before,” Athos walked about the office. “I will consider it my duty to make the senior d’Artagnan proud of his son,” he paused a fraction of a second and added quietly, “God rest his soul.” For Athos still felt guilt ridden that Gaudet pretended to be him when he had killed d’Artagnan’s father.

“I can’t think of a better way to honor Alexandre’s memory than that,” Treville smiled. “My thanks, Athos.”

“None needed, sir. It’s the least we can do for all the boy’s help.”

“And speaking of d’Artagnan where is the lad now?” Treville walked with Athos outside. Both men stood on the balcony to overlook the morning’s activities down in the courtyard. It was still early enough that most of the Musketeers were sitting outside eating breakfast. Some gung ho ones were off near the end of the courtyard already sparring with one another.

“I believe he’s grooming our horses,” Athos remember d’Artagnan mentioning that the previous night to him.

“I don’t believe that was to be part of his training,” there was just a touch of dryness to Treville’s tone for his meaning to become clear to his lieutenant.

“This was the child’s idea,” Athos’s lips thinned. “Said he used to do this all the time back home,” Athos shot a look at his captain’s face. “If it gives him pleasure, far be it from me to dissuade the boy.”

“It also relieves you, Porthos and Aramis from that duty,” Treville smirked. He knew his men well. If there was a way to get out of something, they’d come up with it.

Knowing when it behooved him to keep his mouth shut, Athos thought this was a good time.

“What the deuce is going on now!” Treville thought he was seeing things at first.

“Is something wrong?” Athos’s sharp eyes scanned the courtyard but saw nothing amiss.

“Queen Anne just came out of the stables,” Treville muttered, slamming his hand down hard on the balcony railing.

Now that the captain had pointed out her Majesty’s whereabouts, Athos too saw her. “Ah, there are her guards as well. She is secure then.” He was also curious as to why Queen Anne would be on the grounds. As far as he knew their Majesty’s mounts were kept in a separate stable near the palace.

Spying Masselin in the queen’s arms made Treville chuckle. “Now I see why.”

“I do not,” Athos tilted his head as he stared at his commander.

“Queen Anne’s puff ball must have escaped the palace grounds again and somehow zeroed in on d’Artagnan’s location.”

“Ah!” Athos gave Teville the slightest of smiles. “Think I’ll check on our youngest then,” he tipped his hat. “I will see you later, sir.”

Grunting, Treville waved his lieutenant on.

++++

*Back to the stable again*

“I say,” Aramis stood beside Belle’s shiny coat. “Fine work, d’Artagnan!”

“Done a right smart job, ya did, lad,” Porthos agreed while stroking Roulette’s mane.

“My thanks to you both for your praise,” d’Artagnan blushed again hoping Athos thought as much about Roger’s care.

“I can see while we’ve played the layabouts, d’Artagnan’s been hard at it.” Athos strode in and headed over to Roger’s stall. He was very pleased but expected no less from the young Gascon. Athos knew d’Artagnan was awaiting his verdict, so with just a few words he eased the child’s anxiety. “I couldn’t have done it any better. Good work.”

Smiling from ear to ear, d’Artagnan then ducked his head as he felt that all too familiar heat grace his features. He heard Aramis’s muffled laughter in the background and scowled over at him. “I can’t stop it,” he muttered low.

Walking over to the youngster, Aramis pinched one of d’Artagnan’s cheeks. “You’re still such a child.”

Rolling his eyes, Porthos slung an arm across the lad’s shoulder. “Don’t mind em’,” he said gruffly. Then Porthos whispered something in d’Artagnan’s ear. “He’s just jealous is all.”

Surprised and amused, d’Artagnan’s mouth dropped open as he whispered back. “Of what?”

“You’ve got a natural way with animals, lad.”

“Why are you both bothering to whisper when Aramis and I can hear every word?” Athos’s brow arched.

“It’s a God given talent you have, d’Artagnan,” Aramis admitted. “The horses seem to love you.”

“And apparently so does Masselin,” Athos added. Thinking of the queen, along with her pet, and then d’Artagnan’s conquest of last night, he frowned. Seeing the inquisitive look on the boy’s face, Athos cleared a few things up. “Treville and I noticed Queen Anne leaving the stables with her cat.”

“Yes, Masselin got loose,” d’Artagnan grinned sheepishly.

“Did anything else come of it?” Athos immediately wished he could have taken back those words knowing how they would sound to the youngster.

“I beg your pardon?” d’Artagnan noticed Athos seemed uncomfortable at his own question. Then it dawned on him what the older Musketeer had been hinting at. “Oh, non! The queen was just tracking down her kitten,” he rushed out. “Though she did admit to me that she thought Masselin was her only friend.”

Hanging his head, Athos muttered something under his breath which had Aramis laughing again and Porthos scratching his head seeming bewildered. Looking back up at the boy, Athos grimaced. “Tell me you didn’t tell her you’d be one?” But the blush blooming on the youngster’s cheeks told its own story. 

“Look at it this way, Athos, her Majesty’s lonely and they are of a similar age,” Aramis pointed out. “Yes, she has many ladies-in-waiting, and of course King Louis whenever he doesn’t decide to go on a hunt,” Aramis continued dryly, “but it’s not the same thing.”

“I guess it will not hurt for the boy to have the Queen’s ear,” Athos admitted reluctantly.

“Queen Anne did tell me that I would be welcomed at the palace by both her and the king anytime I wanted,” d’Artagnan didn’t know whether it was such a good idea admitting that, judging by Athos’s reaction again.

“That’s a good thing,” Porthos slid his glance between Aramis and Athos, “ain’t it?”

Covering his mouth with a gloved hand, Athos stared at the ground. “Depends on how one looks at it.” Watching d’Artagnan fidgit with the grooming brush, he felt it best to change the conversation.

Aramis picked up the same vibe from his friend as he removed the brush from the boy’s hand. “Have you eaten yet, d’Artagnan?”

“Non,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “Wanted to take care of our horses first.”

“Well then let’s all partake of Serge’s excellent cooking skills.” Aramis ushered their youngest out of the stable, with the others not far behind.

++++

*Cardinal Richelieu’s office*

“Well?” the cardinal asked, pacing his room impatiently.

“What do you want to know?” Milady pretended innocence.

“Don’t play your games with me!” he snapped. “I know you too well to be tricked.”

“Oh, you take the fun out of life,” she pouted. “But I will say this much,” Milady slid a sly look his way, “contact was well and truly established.”


	9. Chapter 9

After having finished an excellent breakfast, d'Artagnan sparred a few rounds with all the inseparables. Finally taking a break, a whoosh of breathlessness escaped his lips as he sat down on the bench.

“Right fine workout, lad,” Porthos clapped a hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder. “We'll make a fine Musketeer out of you.”

“If the boy can survive sparring with Athos,” Aramis had joined them and began fiddling with his muskets.

“Well I was watchin' him with you, Aramis,” Porthos eyed the romantic one of their group, “d'Artagnan nearly had you on your knees.”

“Not one of my finer performances I must say,” Aramis frowned as he was cleaning his weapons.

“D'Artagnan's talent is raw, as I have pointed out to him on multiple occasions,”Athos's voice wasn't as harsh as usual, the discussion with his captain still fresh on his mind about the lad’s father. “When he taps into all that excess energy he has and focuses on his opponent, d'Artagnan will become an adversary even I wouldn’t want to challenge.”

“Do my ears deceive me,” Aramis exclaimed in shock. “Was that Athos complimenting you, d'Artagnan?”

To d'Artagnan's chagrin, his cheeks once again bloomed rosy. Muttering underneath his breath, he could still hear his friend's muffled chuckles.

“That was me giving an informed opinion on the youngster's skills,” Athos retorted dryly.

“I think the boy's embarrassed enough for now,” Porthos rolled his eyes. “What say you and I practice our knives, d'Artagnan?”

“Oh please, yes,” d'Artagnan nodded his head enthusiastically, just wanting to get away from this entire conversation that seemed to have taken on a life of its own.

“You can't escape that easily, d'Artagnan!” Aramis winked as he shouted that out to the lad.

++++

*Later, early afternoon*

“Gents,” Treville had joined the inseparables in the courtyard who were showing off their considerable skill sets to the boy. “King Louis has decided on a last minute hunt and I nominated you four as escort for him.” Noticing his men weren’t exactly jumping up and down with joy at his announcement, Treville observed that out of all of them only d’Artagnan seemed pleased. He knew quite well that the shine would wear off eventually once the boy had attended one too many of the king’s hunts. “Be at the palace in half an hour or I’ll want to know the reason why,” Treville especially focused his gaze on Aramis before he departed for his office.

“Why’d the captain give you that look, Aramis?” Porthos wondered what his friend had done that he couldn’t remember Aramis doing to earn that expression of warning from Treville.

“Last month,” Aramis admitted wincing as he remembered how their captain dressed him down in private afterwards,” I missed the hunt.”

“Yeah, right,” Porthos nodded in recollection. “You were sick.”

“Sick in the heart,” Athos murmured quietly as d’Artagnan snickered softly behind his mentor. Both men earned a reproachful look from Aramis.

“Was she worth it,” Athos asked dryly as he and d’Artagnan exchanged wry glances.

“At the time... yes,” Aramis sighed deeply at the remembered pleasure of losing himself in Yviette’s considerable charms.

“But not after the captain got through with you I wager,” d’Artagnan teased.

Frowning, Porthos had listened to the exchange and then scowled at Aramis. ‘You weren’t sick?”

“Mon dieu!” Aramis threw his hands up in the air, stomping away in a childish manner.

“What I say?” Porthos scratched at his beard in thought.

Placing a hand on the huge Musketeer’s shoulder, d’Artagnan winked. “It’s what you didn’t say.”

As light dawned brightly above Porthos’s head, he laughed loudly. “Oye!”

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan drawled as he, Porthos and Athos left the courtyard to get cleaned up and changed.

++++

*The hunt*

“King Louis,” d’Artagnan frowned worriedly as he checked his Majesty for injuries. “I did mention that I thought your cinch needed tightening up.”

Gingerly getting up off the ground, Louis grimaced as he felt the aching soreness of unused muscles making themselves known. “Next time I will pay closer attention to what you say, d’Artagnan.”

“Nothing felt broken.” D’Artagnan watched the king with concern.

“Only thing hurt is my pride.” In a hush whispered Louis added, “I’m rather glad you were the only one to witness my humiliating fall from grace.”

“When you pulled away from us I think it startled the others and I was the first one to react.” D’Artagnan remembered the panic he felt as the king raced on ahead of their group.

“And glad I am of it, my boy.” Looking around him, Louis fretted. “Now where the deuce did my mount run off too?”

“If you don’t mind riding behind me on Zad, we can look for him together, sire,” d’Artagnan offered.

“Excellent plan, lad.” Taking d’Artagnan’s extended hand, Louis swung up behind the boy. As he glanced behind them, a huff of laughter escaped him. “We must have traveled farther afield from everyone more than I thought. Not a single Musketeer or my old fox in sight.”

Worry filled d’Artagnan at the king’s remarks. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to be looking for the horse since it was just the two of them on their own. “Your Majesty, I’m going to backtrack and head for our party,” he threw over his shoulder. “I’m entrusted with your care and there have been numerous reports of bandit sightings in this area.”

“Non! I won’t hear of it,” Louis disagreed. “If you knew how much that Spanish saddle alone cost, d’Artagnan, you wouldn’t be so eager to abandon the search.”

“Is the cost of a saddle worth your life, your Majesty,” d’Artagnan retorted swiftly, wishing he could bite his tongue for his words he let loose.

Mulling it around, Louis sighed. “You’re quite right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Tapping the boy on the shoulder, Louis leaned forward. “You have my permission to turn back.”

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he held, d’Artagnan quickly turned Zad around and headed back into the direction they had come from. Unfortunately for them both, they ran afoul of bandits blocking their way. “Your Majesty, let me handle this.”

“I dare say you’re a fierce one with a sword, d’Artagnan, but even you can not take on five ruffians such as these all on your own.” 

“I will do my very best, sire,” d’Artagnan snapped. He was a little irritated that the king didn’t have confidence in his skills to defend him adequately. True, he would have wished for better numbers, but he felt five bandits wouldn’t be too much of a problem. “Now please, don’t say anything. They probably don’t know you’re the king and I’d like to keep it that way,” d’Artagnan hissed.

Facing the bandits, d’Artagnan put on a brave front. “Let us pass.”

“After you give us your horse and everything contained in your saddlebags,” one of the bandits voiced loudly.

“We’ve already lost one mount, I cannot afford to lose another,” d’Artagnan gave them his most innocent look. Though he didn’t feel the puppy dog effect would work with rogues such as these.

“You can’t afford to lose your life either, boy!” Another rough looking bandit spoke up, threatening the duo with his musket. “Get off! Both of you... now!”

“I believe the time has come to comply with their wishes, d’Artagnan,” King Louis dismounted first. Then waited for the lad to follow.

Once both men were on the ground, d’Artagnan noticed all five bandits also had dismounted. “Oh, this can’t be good,” he spoke softly for only the king to hear.

“I have my own sword on me, d’Artagnan,” Louis whispered. “We could take them by surprise.”

Looking at the king as if the man had lost his mind, d’Artagnan grabbed him by the arm. “I won’t risk your life this way,” he whispered back fiercely. 

“I am actually looking forward to this skirmish,” Louis smiled. “It will make interesting dinner conversation tonight.” Glancing over at d’Artagnan’s white face, he patted the boy on the back. “I trust you to watch over me always,” Louis gave the youngster a most earnest look. “Indulge this whim of mine, please.”

“Some whim,” d’Artagnan snorted and rolled his eyes. “Gentlemen, it would seem we have changed our minds about letting you have our horse.”

“Right,” one of the other bandits laughed harshly. “You two gonna fight the five of us?”

Exchanging smiles with each other, both d’Artagnan and Louis held out their swords. “Engarde!” they cried out together.

Considering the king hadn’t engaged in an actual duel since his last campaign, Louis acquitted himself quite well. He took down two bandits with ease, killing one of them, knowing d’Artagnan had helped keep the other three away from him. So he returned the favor and drew the third bandit away from the boy, leaving d’Artagnan dealing with just two.

Wielding his sword with his right hand, d’Artagnan held his main gauche with his left, parrying incoming thrusts with the smaller dagger. He managed to injure the one bandit in the shoulder and had killed his companion with a thrust to the heart.

“I say,” King Louis slapped d’Artagnan on the back, “we made a good team. “Two dead and three injured,” he rubbed his hands together relishing their fight. “I think this was rather a good hunt after all.”

Shaking his head, d’Artagnan’s lips twitched. “Not the sort we were to engage in, sire.”

“I can’t wait for my old fox to see what we accomplished between us,” Louis took in the sight of the three bandits being trussed up by d’Artagnan.

“I’m surprised the others haven’t caught up to our position by now,” d’Artagnan went back to his saddlebag for more rope. As he did so, uppermost in his mind was that Captain Treville would blame him for not turning around immediately once he had caught up to the king.

“I could almost read your mind from here, d’Artagnan,” King Louis said. “I will make sure Treville knows you are not to blame for me wanting my prize saddle back.”

“That would be of great service to me if you would, your Majesty.”

“Let us be off then,” Louis helped d’Artagnan finish tying the bandits up before they left.

++++

“There they are!” cried Porthos as he signaled to Treville and the others. He had been riding ahead of their small party scouting for their wayward king and little brother.

“Mon dieu! What had they gotten themselves into?” Treville voiced out loud as he watched the little parade in front of him. Three men, with their arms tied in back of them, were walking slowly ahead of a single horse carrying the king and d’Artagnan.

The closer they got, d’Artagnan’s grin grew wider. “We’re all in one piece, Captain,” he hollered out.

Grimly, Treville eyed the lad. “What devilment happened this time?” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. Lately he had spotted more grey in it than usual and put it down to the fact he better get used to it with d'Artagnan around.

Holding up his hand, Louis’s eyes sparkled. “I will be held accountable for it all.”

“Your Majesty?” Treville glanced from the bandits to the king and then to the boy who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sure this involved some mischief on d’Artagnan’s part.”

“Non!” King Louis dismounted with the help of Athos and Porthos. Aramis looked on in bemusement as he took in the scene. “My horse threw me,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “D’Artagnan had warned me earlier about that cinch and I paid no heed to his words, getting a sore posterior for my troubles.”

“But how did you come by these men?” Athos questioned, watching d’Artagnan’s evasive face with curiosity.

“I wanted to go look for my horse and d’Artagnan insisted we go back,” King Louis huffed as he noticed the boy’s downcast eyes. “D’Artagnan couldn’t believe I felt the horse was worth risking my life over until I pointed out I was more worried about the cost of a most valuable saddle.”

“Ah!” Athos knew once the king set his mind to something it was not easily swayed and felt sympathy for whatever d’Artagnan had gone threw with the stubborn Louis.

“And these bandits?” Treville was still waiting to find out how they ran into them.

“Cornered us, sir,” d’Artagnan managed to find his voice. He didn’t want to interrupt his Majesty’s explanation and had waited to say his piece. “There were actually five in all.”

“Five!” Treville’s voice went up several octaves. “Where are the other two then?”

“Dead,” King Louis supplied, “one by d’Artagnan’s hand and the other by mine.” 

“And his Majesty injured two of the three,” d’Artagnan knew his three friends were amazed at this piece of news. His captain though looked ready to burst a blood vessel.

“What in the name of all that’s holy were you doing, d’Artagnan, to let the king enter into the fray?” Treville yelled.

“My, old fox,” King Louis’s eyes darkened with displeasure, “I’ve told you none of this was the boy’s fault. In fact I’m the one who encouraged the skirmish against d’Artagnan’s wishes.”

Hanging his head down, Treville said a silent prayer of thanks to the all mighty for watching over foolish kings and young Musketeers who must protect him.

“I can’t wait to tell Anne all about this at dinner tonight.” Someone found Louis another horse and as he mounted it, his glance slid toward Treville. “It was a grand hunt after all, my old fox.”

“D’Artagnan, I apologize for shouting at you,” Treville sighed. “I didn’t have all the facts.”

“Tis all right, sir,” d’Artagnan smiled tentatively. “My first thought was for the king’s safety when I chased after him.”

“Yes, and for that you have my undying gratitude,” Treville responded gruffly. “Sometimes Louis gets into these moods and you just can’t control the man.”

“Oh, d’Artagnan,” King Louis called out. “You are to dine with Anne and I tonight. I want her to hear all about our adventure together.”

“Uh,” not knowing how to reply to that astounding invitation, d’Artagnan’s eyes seeked out those of Athos and Captain Treville. Seeing both men nod their heads slowly at him, confirming that it was entirely correct for him to accept, d’Artagnan was relieved. “Just inform me of the time and I will be there promptly, sire.”

“We usually dine half past six,” King Louis smiled at the youngster as he drew his horse alongside d’Artagnan’s. “Anne will have to take notice instead of talking to that damn cat of hers!”

Eyes widened alarmingly at the king’s tone. “Do you not like Masselin?”

“It’s the other way around,” Louis snorted. “He cannot tolerate me anywhere around her.”

“Animals are sensitive creatures, sire,” d’Artagnan tried to explain. “They can sense if you don’t like them and act accordingly.”

“You think there’s hope for me yet to come to a peaceable solution with Masselin then?”

“If you wish,” d’Artagnan’s eyes brightened considerably, “I can be your negotiator.”

“Ha! I like that. Yes I really do!” King Louis rode away laughing.

“What was that all about,” Aramis’s curious brown eyes followed the kings trail.

“We were talking about peace treaties,” d’Artagnan’s face grew impish as he winked at his three friends.

“What about em’, boyo?” Porthos was proud that the boy had defended their king the way he had. He was just as sure Athos and Aramis felt the same. 

“Oh,” d’Artagnan waved a hand in the air, “you know... between King Louis and Masselin.” Riding away he left three stunned inseparables behind.


	10. Chapter 10

*Dinner at the palace*

“Queen Anne,” d’Artagnan put down his glass of wine as he directed his gaze at her Majesty down the long dining table, “you should have seen King Louis in action,” he boasted. “He killed one bandit and injured two more.”

Having finished her dinner, Anne sat back in her chair relaxing with Masselin on her lap. The latter purred contentedly as she stroked it’s head. “And you, d’Artagnan, how did you fare during this fight?”

“Well I was trying to keep one eye on his Majesty while dueling with my opponents, but I did manage to kill one and injure another.”

“We made a fine team, Anne,” Louis announced as he raised his glass in the air toasting d’Artagnan. “Here’s to the next time.”

“Oh, I hope not, sire,” d’Artagnan blurted out in horror and then turned his head toward the queen who was gently laughing behind her hand. Quickly look back at King Louis, who was frowning at d’Artagnan’s words, he quickly explained what he meant. “No offense, your Majesty, I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Appeased at the younger man's response, Louis smiled. “With you by my side I doubt I have too many worries on that score.”

“Louis,” Anne broke in, “I am going to my rooms now.” As she stood up, Anne held out a hand to the boy. “Thank you for looking after Louis so well, d’Artagnan.”

“It was a duty and a pleasure, Queen Anne,” d’Artagnan stood up, as did the king, and placed a light kiss on her Majesty’s hand.

Just before Queen Anne went through the massive doors which led to the outer chambers, she whispered something in Masselin’s tiny ear. Then the kitten jumped out of her arms and trotted over to the two men.

Masselin came toward’s d’Artagnan, stopped and glanced up at him, mewling softly.

Bending low, d’Artagnan scooped the kitten up in one hand and started stroking its white coat. “Masselin, why don’t you give King Louis a chance for you two to become better acquainted.” Hearing the kitten purr in his arms, d’Artagnan observed the king putting something in a small bowl.

“I hope this works, d’Artagnan,” King Louis eyed the cat warily, hoping this wouldn't earn him any scratches on his person.

“This is a peace offering, sire,” d’Artagnan reminded him. “One would think you were about to mount a campaign against a deadly enemy.”

“Where Masselin is concerned, this is a campaign,” King Louis retorted wryly, hearing d’Artagnan’s snort of laughter escape the boy.

Saying a silent prayer, d’Artagnan placed the kitten on the table and watched it cross over to the king and sniff into the bowl. In no time at all, Masselin had cleaned the bowl to the very bottom and much to the king’s amazement, jumped into Louis’s arms for a cuddle.

“See, sire, what a bit of tuna can accomplish,” d’Artagnan was more pleased than he could say at the outcome.

“I owe you a great debt, d’Artagnan.” King Louis was happy as Masselin allowed him to pet the cat without fear of reprisal. “Even Anne listened to me tonight.”

“You’ve turned another milestone, your Majesty,” d’Artagnan commented. “And let’s say we're even after what happened earlier today. You acquitted yourself as well as any Musketeer I could have hoped for as back-up.”

“D’Artagnan, you honor me with your words,” King Louis actually blushed at the youngster’s praise.

Wondering if he could be so bold as to suggest something to the king, d’Artagnan took a chance. “In regards to Queen Anne, if you meet her halfway you’ll both discover you have many things in common to converse about and enjoy together.”

“You have a wise head on such young shoulders,” King Louis pointed out. “I will do so at the earliest opportunity.” It was a good night all around he thought as Louis rubbed behind Masselin’s ears. Louis realized he didn’t want the evening to end. “By any chance do you play chess?”

“I do, sire.”

“Any good?”

“My pe’re thought so as he was the one responsible for teaching me,” d’Artagnan grinned. “He excelled at the game.”

“Well the night’s still young as they say,” King Louis grinned in delight. “I haven’t had a good match in ages.”

“I hope to come up to snuff then.” As the king got up to leave, so did d’Artagnan who followed his Majesty into another chamber.

++++

*Next day, early afternoon on the streets of Paris*

Observing the youngster below from the view her apartment window offered, Milady’s eyes kindled with desire. The boy was just too handsome for his own good and he didn’t seem to realize it. Well it turned out to be a beautiful day despite the heavy rains that came the night before. So she decided to take a walk outside and perhaps Milady would manage to bump into d’Artagnan along the way.

++++

“Fancy meeting you here again, d’Artagnan,” Milady fluttered her fan back and forth as the young man took her extended hand to press a kiss upon it.

“We do keep meeting this way,” d’Artagnan smiled into her lovely green eyes.

“Are you free or do you have important business to attend too?” Milady didn’t give him a chance to reply as she had an offer for him and the sooner the better. “Because I have a proposition to put forth to you.”

She caught his interest and even though d’Artagnan was to report back to Captain Treville shortly, he had time enough on his hands to listen to her. “Please continue, I’m all ears.”

Tucking her arm into his, Milady strolled with d’Artagnan until they stood at the foot of a beautiful fountain. “I work for a powerful man who happens to have an eye on you,” Milady kept fanning herself for it was a warm day. “Interested in becoming something other than a mere Musketeer?”

“To whom do you work for?” Bridling at the way she belittled the importance of becoming a Musketeer, d’Artagnan had no intention of taking her up on the offer. Still, he was curious as to Milady’s mysterious benefactor.

She leaned closer to the youngster, whispering her secret. “His Eminence, Cardinal Richelieu.”

Stunned, d’Artagnan thought at first she jested but Milady had the appearance of being serious on the matter. “I’m not Red Guard material I’m afraid.”

Her green eyes narrowed in disbelief that this child had refused a position with the cardinal. But she banked down the fire his words had created and pretended indifference. “Ah well,” Milady continued fanning herself, “you may change your mind later.”

“I somehow doubt it, Milady, and now I do have to rush off,” he bowed slightly. “I have an appointment with my captain.”

“Til next time,” she smiled but it soon dropped away as d’Artagnan rounded a corner. Richelieu will not be pleased at her failure.

++++

*Captain Treville’s office*

“This woman, Milady de Winter did you say?” Treville watched the boy nod his head. “Said she works for Cardinal Richelieu and he appears to have an interest in you?” Treville slapped his hand so hard on top of his desk that d’Artagnan started at the sound.

“I get the impression that would not be in my best interests?” D’Artagnan had observed Treville’s fierce reaction to his news and it disturbed him. “I told her that I wouldn’t be a good fit for the Red Guards.”

“Watch your back, son,” Treville warned. “If the cardinal truly wants you to work for him and you turned his offer aside, then you make yourself his enemy.”

“What does that make you, sir?” d’Artagnan frowned. “I mean, your captain of the Musketeers.”

“We tolerate each other but only just.” Treville didn’t see this coming and it was indeed worrisome to him.

“Milady is under the impression that if I sleep on it I’ll perhaps change my mind.”

“Then let’s hope Richelieu feels the same way until I can fathom out what he wants you for.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” d’Artagnan threw out. “He wants me to join his guards.”

“Non,” Treville shook his head. “There’s more to it than that I’m nearly positive about it.” Studying the child with a fatherly eye, he rubbed his forehead. “Don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to tell the others?”

“Non.” D’Artagnan was beginning to feel nervous over the whole affair and stood up, pacing the room back and forth. “You really feel my life’s in danger for not accepting?”

“Make sure you inform the inseparables about this.” Treville stared at a point past d’Artagnan’s head, briefly lost in his own thoughts. “I’m afraid the wheels may have been set in motion the moment you killed Gaudet.”

“I’d do it again to avenge my pe’re’s murder!” d’Artagnan retorted angrily. Hoping the captain wasn’t in a round about way saying he should have kept the rogue alive.

“No one’s denying you your right to justice,” Treville held up his hand. “I just feel Richelieu has something more in mind for you.”

“Perhaps the next time I see Milady I will find out more.”

“In the meantime, we’ll try not to dwell too much on it.” Captain Treville’s face changed then to one of amusement. “I heard from Louis that you soundly trounced him at chess last evening.

D’Artagnan smiled sheepishly. “We’re having a re-match later this week when the king’s calendar allows,” ducking his head shyly, d’Artagnan’s fly away hair hid his eyes from the captain’s view.

“Try not to beat him too very often, my boy,” Treville laughed. “I find at times it’s best to let the king feel victorious,” he rolled his eyes. “Louis is much easier to deal with when he’s in more of a receptive mood.”

“I will take your advice to heart,” d’Artagnan acknowledged with a grin. “Now I’ve got hand-to-hand combat training with Athos on my schedule next.”

Placing a firm hand on the young man's shoulder, Treville patted it in sympathy. “Make sure Aramis has plenty of that salve available.” Watching as d’Artagnan left he muttered softly, “You’re going to need it.”

++++

As d’Artagnan headed down the steps, he thought over the captain’s remarks just before he closed the door. D’Artagnan realized he wasn’t meant to hear them but still he had. It filled him with unease at the thought of facing Athos. But if he was determined to become a Musketeer, d’Artagnan knew he’d have to take his lumps like a man.

++++

*Courtyard*

“On time,” Athos nodded approvingly at the pup. “You ready to take me on?”

“As soon as I talk with Aramis.” D’Artagnan noticed Athos's uncertain expression. “Uh, the captain suggested I check with Aramis that he has enough salve on hand for when we are done.”

“Ah!” Athos understood. “A wise man our captain.”

“Er, yes.” D’Artagnan craned his neck looking for Aramis on the grounds and spotted him sparring with Rene. Running over he waved at his friend, gaining his attention.

“Do you need something, d’Artagnan?” Wiping sweat trickling down his forehead, Aramis listened to what the youngster wanted. Then he laughed out loud. “Never fear," he winked at d'Artagnan. "I have a fresh supply just waiting to be used. I'm sure we will make good use of it when you are finished training.”

“My thanks, Aramis.” Re-joining Athos, d’Artagnan waited for his lesson to begin.

++++

*An hour and a multitude of bruises and sore muscles later*

“I ache everywhere,” d’Artagnan moaned as Aramis rubbed the soothing salve onto his back. When d’Artagnan’s session with Athos came to an end, somehow he found the energy to follow Aramis up to the infirmary where they currently were with d’Artagnan laying on his stomach.

“Athos, couldn’t you have been a little less harsh with our pup?” Aramis snapped as he found new areas on the boy that needed treatment.

“I don’t coddle anyone and you know that!” Athos glared at his friend. He disliked being questioned on his training ethics.

“From where I was it looked to me as if you were beating the stuffin' out of d’Art.” Porthos had since joined them and frowned at the bruising covering d’Artagnan's body.

“Guys, it’s fine,” d’Artagnan turned over and sat up on the bed. “If this keeps me alive during a fight then I’m all for it.”

Both Aramis and Porthos turned burning looks Athos's way. The latter simply folded his arms and arched his eyebrows.

“Someday I hope to convey my feelings with just a look like that one,” d’Artagnan quipped.

“Athos has turned it into rather an art form,” Aramis laughed.

“Yeah,” Porthos grunted. “I’ve known many a recruit to turn and run in the other direction when Athos turned it on them.”

Enjoying the comradeship between them again, d’Artagnan remembered Treville’s reminder. “Since we’re all together I have something that the captain thought important enough to share with you.”

“We’re listening,” Athos raised his hand up slightly imploring the youngster to continue.

Trying to be as brief as possible, d’Artagnan explained to his friends about Milady, his association with her and the offer from Cardinal Richelieu. When he was done, a deafening silence filled the room.

Rubbing his beard, Porthos exchanged concerned glances with Aramis and Athos. “I don’t like the sounds of this.”

“Nor do I,” Aramis felt gravely worried for d’Artagnan now that his Eminence seems to have set his sights on the boy.

“I want to know your whereabouts at all times,” Athos’s voice brooked no arguments as he observed d’Artagnan biting his lip.

“Even if I go to visit Milady?”

“Even then,” Athos agreed. “But if I were you, I would limit my association with that woman as much as possible. “If she is in league with the cardinal that means Milady can not be trusted.”

“It would be my luck that a beautiful, older woman like her should be interested in me and I can’t follow it up any longer,” d’Artagnan sighed.

“Wouldn’t you rather be young and alive then young and dead,” Aramis asked. Despite the dangerous implications being voiced, his tone was laced with humor.

“You think it’s that serious?” d’Artagnan questioned in turn.

“Richelieu sees the same thing in you that we all do,” Athos's brows drew together in thought. “Except in his case he would twist it to his own nefarious purposes.”

“I think we’re overwhelming the lad.” Porthos helped the youngster off the bed. He winced as the poor child started limping around. “What the hell sort of workout did you do with him, Athos?”

Face turning red, Athos threw his hands up in the air. “Next time you two can do hand-to-hand with the boy.”

“Might save me on making a new batch of salve,” Aramis mused out loud, much to d’Artagnan’s chagrin.

Before they all left the infirmary, Athos had d’Artagnan’s arm in a firm grip. “Next time, if there has to be one,” he huffed, “you have a rendevous with Milady, I want you to point her out to me.”

“I can do that.” His head full of dreams of being with Milady or not, the cardinal’s offer, warnings from his friends and captain, not to mention his aching muscles, d’Artagnan was ready to seek the comfort of his own bed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've added another twist to this, as anyone who follows my stories knows I like to do. Hope you like it.
> 
> ++++

*Next day, early afternoon – Musketeer Garrison stables*

“I’m looking for a Monsieur d’Artagnan, would you know where he is?” a breathless street runner, with eyes too large for his small face, stared over at a man a good ten years older than himself who was in the process of grooming a horse.

Placing his brush down, d’Artagnan patted Zad affectionately on the horse’s rump. Turning to face the urchin, he could see the agitation in the boy’s limbs as if he needed to escape the confines of the stable no sooner than he had entered. “I am he.”

Holding out his hand, the boy gave d’Artagnan a sealed letter. “Then this is yours."

Wondering when the child had eaten his last meal, d’Artagnan searched in his pockets and withdrew a few coins. Slipping them to the boy for his trouble, he smiled gently at him. “My thanks.” The boy quickly snatched the money from d’Artagnan’s hand, mumbled a hasty goodbye and ran away.

Opening the letter, d’Artagnan quickly scanned its contents. Slowly folding the single sheet of paper he tucked it into his shirt pocket. Looking at Zad prancing in his stall, d’Artagnan whispered soothing words. “We’ll soon be going out and then you can stretch your legs.”

++++

*la Fere estate*

Pacing the floors of the estate where she and Athos once shared a great love, Milady unconsciously fingered her choker. If d’Artagnan refused to enter into service with Richelieu, she had only one alternative left. The cardinal as much as said that d’Artagnan’s life would be forfeit if he were to become his enemy. So if the boy declined the offer Milady would save Richelieu the trouble of ending d’Artagnan’s young life.

This place brought back good memories along with the bad. The bad had been when her ever so loving husband had her hung for murdering Athos’s beloved brother Thomas, everyone's favorite or so her husband made claim. Thomas was certainly never one of her favorite people; she thought the younger de la Fere a sniveling whelp tied to Athos’s apron strings. Shaking off thoughts of the past, Milady stared into the distance at a lone tree sitting on top a tiny mound. She had an excellent view of it from one of the windows in the great hall where she now stood. Milady had thought never to see it again but fate could be a cruel master and so here she was. That day she supposedly *died* was the day Milady turned her back on love. 

Humming lightly to herself, Milady wondered what Athos would feel were he to find the dead body of the youngster he and the others had taken under their wing here at la Fere. For d’Artagnan’s sake she hoped the boy picked the right side to work for instead of the oblivion Milady offered if he turned his back on them.

++++

The letter had an urgency about it so d’Artagnan didn’t bother running around trying to find Athos, though he knew the older Musketeer wanted to see for himself who Milady actually was. He did scrawl a hastily written note to his friend, slipping it under Athos’s apartment door before he departed on his journey.

As for d'Artagnan's travels, it was a good thing Milady had given him decent directions in her letter. New to Paris and the surrounding towns, he still wasn’t sure where he was half the time. Following the landmarks Milady had written down for him to keep an eye out for, d’Artagnan had Zad turning off the main road onto an even smaller one where it brought him directly to a village teeming with people. Anyone who dared look his way appeared cautious in acknowledging him, realizing he was a stranger. D'Artagnan couldn't really blame them, for all they knew he could have been a bandit.

Still, d’Artagnan could see avid curiosity in most of their faces. A few seemed more than wary of him. He wondered why unless they kept to themselves and didn’t encourage outsiders very often.

Stopping at the local tavern, d’Artagnan dismounted to ask someone if he were headed in the correct direction, not wanting to feel foolish for getting lost. For Milady’s missive mentioned needing his help desperately on a matter of most import.

“Monsieur,” d’Artagnan asked one gentleman heading into the tavern, “is this the correct way to la Fere?” Talk about reactions, D’Artagnan thought the man would keel over from shock as he turned a pasty shade of white. “Are you all right, Monsieur?”

“Yes,” the man grumbled, “just took me by surprise is all. No one’s been up there these past five years."

“Could you point me to the road leading up to the estate?”

“Opening the place back up again are ye?”

Taken aback by that question, d’Artagnan hesitated in his response thinking how to reply. Instead he gave the man a partial truth. “Non, I’m to meet a friend there.”

Scratching his chin, the man shook his head thinking something else was afoot but it wasn't any of his business. So he pointed d’Artagnan in the general direction of la Fere and watched the youngster's relieved face. "Didn't realize you were that close did ye?" he chuckled.

Laughing softly, d'Artagnan held out his hand to him. "Non, I did not. I am not familiar with these areas as yet. My thanks, Monsieur." D'Artagnan then led Zad over to a water trough for a drink before heading off again. 

++++

*Athos’s apartment*

Walking into his rooms, Athos heard a crunch under his boot and looked down spying the note. Picking it up, he unfolded it neatly and began to read it out loud to himself. 

“Dear Athos, I had a letter from Milady requesting my help in a dire matter. I didn’t take the time to locate your whereabouts but wanted you to know that I’m meeting her at…” Athos stopped when he reached that point such was his shock at the words d’Artagnan wrote next. “Mon dieu!” Athos exclaimed, completely stunned. “It can’t be!” Then suddenly feeling as if he were being watched, Athos hand went to his pistol as he swiftly turned around to see Porthos and Aramis standing in the doorway holding up their hands.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa there!" Porthos entreated. "We haven't come to rob ya." Porthos heard Aramis chuckling beside him and poked him in the ribs. "Stop that," he hissed. "Athos looks bad."

Noticing that too, the grin slipped from Aramis's face. “What’s troubling you so?” He had never seen such an expression on Athos's face before.

“Yeah, what’s got you all twisted up like?” If Porthos didn't know better he would have said that Athos looked as if he had seen a ghost.

Grabbing Aramis by the arm, Athos shook it urgently. “This is important!” he barked. “Do you remember d’Artagnan describing what Milady looked like?”

“You mean aside from her being,” Aramis air quoted, “*beautiful*?” Aramis rolled his eyes and forgetting himself laughed gayly in that way of his. Instantly he knew that wasn’t the done thing to do as he saw the deadly look Athos aimed his way. So Aramis held up his hand to prevent his long time comrade from separating Aramis’s head from his shoulders. “Green eyes like gems I believe our pup described her.”

“Long, wavy dark hair too,” Porthos added watching Athos’s color return to its normal hue. But then in an instant the man's face darkened into something unpleasant and Porthos sincerely hoped he'd never see that look ever again.

“She’s dead! Has to be! I watched it happen!” Athos raged.

“What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense.” Aramis meant to catch Athos by his jacket as the man raced out the door past him but Aramis was just a fraction too slow as he missed.

“What the deuce is wrong with him?” Porthos growled in concern.

“Haven’t a clue but apparently it’s all mixed up with d’Artagnan and Milady.”

“Should we follow em’?’ Porthos was more than worried now for both d’Artagnan and Athos’s sake.

“We can’t, remember?” Aramis nudged the bigger man in the side. “Treville has a short assignment for you and I.”

“Damn!”

“I agree, mon ami.”

++++

*la Fere estate*

Watching a lone figure on a horse off in the distance coming closer, Milady could just make out the form of a young man, which had to be d’Artagnan. “Now we shall see who you will side with, my cheri.”

++++

As d’Artagnan reached the estate Milady came out to greet him as he dismounted. “I got here as soon as I could.”

Taking him by the arm, Milady lead the youngster into the house. “And I thank you for your haste, d’Artagnan.”

“Are you in need of my protection against someone? Just point him out to me and he’s as good as in the ground.”

“Not yet, but hold that thought.” Milady murmured softly, not meeting d’Artagnan’s eyes for a moment.

“Then,” d’Artagnan paused and ran a hand through his windblown hair, “I’m sorry. I don’t understand why you sent for me.”

“It is actually my help that you need now, d’Artagnan,” Milady purred as she circled the boy. Milady could tell the young man was bewildered by her words. “Have you come to a decision about joining forces and working for Cardinal Richelieu with me?”

“I’ve already given you my answer when I said that I didn’t want to be a Red Guard in his Eminence’s service.”

“You could be so much more than that, d’Artagnan.”

“I’d rather serve King Louis as a Musketeer,” he said firmly, frowning at her displeased expression. Milady looked like she wanted to murder someone. Probably him since he went against her wishes.

“I am sorry you feel that way.” Milady turned and walked away from d’Artagnan. “You’ve chosen oblivion then,” she shrugged as if it was no concern to her. “But that is your decision to make.” She gazed sadly at the youth’s handsome features. “Such a waste. I could have done something with a man like you.”

Still not understanding Milady’s strange summons to this place, nor her actions since his arrival, d’Artagnan thought he would be better off away from here and perhaps her as well. “If that is the reason for asking me here under false pretenses I must leave.”

As d’Artagnan turned his back on her, he heard a whishing sound behind him which made him twist his body around to see what it was. He never stood a chance as he was taken down by a blow to the head from the long torch Milady wielded in her slender hands, swinging it at him with all her might, knocking d’Artaganan off his feet.

Dazed and confused, d’Artagnan could only watch as Milady walked around the huge hall setting everything ablaze. Vision blurred, he couldn’t focus too well on her movements as she left him alone. Coughing from the smoke d’Artagnan was inhaling, his vision grew dimmer as he slowly lost consciousness.

Going from room to room, Milady set all of la Fere afire, turning the estate into a raging inferno. Standing back in the entrance to the hall she watched d’Artagnan’s prone body and slowly smiled before she left him to burn along with the memories of a lost love.

++++

It was early evening by the time Athos reached the village on the outskirts of his estate grounds. But even from here he could see a faint glow coming from la Fere. Swearing under his breath, Athos urged Roger to go faster.

When he arrived, Athos’s heart was in his throat. If d’Artagnan was caught inside that hell then the boy’s only hope was for Athos to locate him before d’Artagnan succumbed to the smoke first.

Rushing inside the burning home dread filled him as Athos shouted, “D’ARTAGNAN! D’ARTAGNAN CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Running in and out of several rooms, dodging fiery debris that fell, he kept shouting. “D’ARTAGNAN! PLEASE, BOY, ANSWER ME!” The air was hazy from the thick smoke created from the blaze that surrounded him. Running into the great hall, Athos nearly collapsed to his knees himself. He was choking, his lungs felt like they were burning up just like the house. But Athos knew if he gave up all was lost for the boy. And if d'Artagnan died... so would he. Neither of them would be leaving la Fere alive. But it was then that Athos finally heard someone coughing harshly from another area of the great hall.

Following the sounds, Athos finally located d’Artagnan. The youngster was clearly hurt as a painful wound was evident on the boy’s forehead which was bruised and bleeding from a deep cut. One whole side of d’Artagnan’s face was covered in blood as well.

Gathering the child into his arms, Athos carried d’Artagnan back outside, far enough away from the fire and intense heat. He ran over to Roger and retrieved several water skins which he used to pour over the lad's face and his own as well to cool their overheated skin.

While he was seeing to d’Artagnan’s care, Athos heard a faint noise coming from the other end of the grounds. Turning his head to the side he watched as a horse and rider galloped away. It was evening now but with the fire illuminating part of the grounds it was just enough for Athos to make out the features of the rider, and for a moment he thought he was hallucinating when Athos spotted a specter from his dark past. And one word escaped his lips. “Anne.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angst for the boys.
> 
> ++++

*la Fere estate*

Blinking his eyes against the thick smoke that came from the burning fire, Athos held an unconscious d’Artagnan in his arms, rocking them both back and forth. He ran his hand through the soot covered, brown hair of the boy’s telling, himself that they were both alive and would live to fight another day.

Seeing Anne galloping away from the damage she wrought shook him out of his stupor. First things first, he had to get himself and d’Artagnan back to Paris. Then they could figure out what to do with the woman he once thought dead and buried.

Moaning, d’Artagnan slowly awakened to feel himself being held tenderly in strong arms. He placed his own hands on top of the work roughened ones that kept him safe. “Athos,” that one simple word had d’Artagnan hacking out a lung. “Sorry,” he took in a deep breath, feeling a soothing hand rubbing up and down his back.

“Feel up to a drink of water,” Athos croaked. His breathing wasn’t much better than d’Artagnan’s as he too had a coughing fit.

“Oui.” D’Artagnan sat up on his own and gratefully took the water skin that was offered to him.

“Perhaps it’s better this way that la Fere burn to the ground,” Athos murmured more to himself than to the youngster who thirstily drank the extra water skin dry.

Little did he know it, but when d’Artagnan wiped his mouth with a dirty shirt sleeve it left a grotesque looking smear clear across his face. Seeing Athos’s strange smile, d’Artagnan was stunned as his friend reached out to gently wipe the mark away with a wet thumb. It was a telling gesture on Athos’s part and made d’Artagnan realize how much the older man he looked up too cared for him. For want of anything else to say, d’Artagnan asked a question he should have asked Milady. “Do you know who the owner of this place is?”

Without a hint of hesitation, Athos replied. “I am.”

“Athos, the smoke didn’t addle my wits that much,” d’Artagnan observed his friend’s wry smile. Athos didn’t appear to be jesting and realizing that his friend was serious, d'Artagnan was stymied. “You’re of the nobility then?”

“Comte de la Fere at your service, pup,” Athos replied mockingly. “Damn the title, damn the estate and damn Anne to whatever hell she spawned from!”

“This is just too much for me to take in at the moment,” d’Artagnan coughed lightly this time and leaned into Athos weakly.

Knowing they were both too tired, filthy and in d’Artagnan’s case hurt, Athos would arrange for rooms at the local inn for both of them. A doctor was needed for the youngster’s care as well and while he was at it he’d have the tailor clean their clothing for them. “Think you could ride in front with me?”

Nodding his head slowly, d’Artagnan glanced over at Zad who was nearby in a field. He knew the fire wouldn't scare his horse away, as many others would have taken off in a frenzy of fear. D’Artagnan would have been surprised if Zad had because they had been together ever since d’Artagnan was ten years of age.

Seeing the lad’s gaze resting on Zad, Athos smiled. “I’ll tie his tether to Rogers.” He was a bit worried that the boy hadn’t spoken much since he had divulged his title to him. Cupping one cheek in his hand, Athos patted d’Artagnan’s face lightly. “How do you honestly feel?”

“Really?” d’Artagnan scoffed at the question. “You ask me that after saving me from a fiery grave.” He was sorry he snapped back when d’Artagnan caught sight of Athos’s grimace. “Apologies. I think my wits are addled after all,” he smiled sadly. “Honestly,” d’Artagnan titled his head,” my head’s killing me.”

“I couldn’t get a proper look at your pupils since it’s so dark now, but I know you’re dealing with a concussion.” Touching the bloody forehead gently, Athos hung his head in shame. Anne did this and he vowed to know the reason why or Athos couldn’t call himself a Musketeer with any conviction if not.

Placing a hand on Athos’s shoulder, d’Artagnan shook it. “Do you think we could leave now and you could explain everything else to me later?" Stabbing his friend with a sharp look he held up a hand. "Especially who the hell this Anne person is!"

Chuckling, despite their situation, Athos helped d’Artagnan stand up. “That’s a tall order.”

Legs threatening to collapse underneath him, d’Artangna sagged into Athos’s hold. “Sorry,” he said rather breathlessly.

“One more *sorry* out of you, young man, and I won’t tell you a bedtime story.”

“Wha... what did you say?” D’Artagnan was beginning to feel that Athos was dealing with an injury as well since he wasn’t making any sense.

Settling the boy in front of him, Athos had Roger set off for the village. “You had questions and I will answer them the best I can after we get you seen too.”

Too tired and hurt to care anymore, d’Artagnan closed his eyes and knew no more until they reached their destination and he woke up to hear Athos barking out orders as if he had the right too. It was then he realized that somehow his friend had gotten him down from Roger without waking him up and was now carrying him inside a building.

“I can hardly lift my head up,” d’Artagnan groaned into Athos’s shoulder. He had tried opening his eyes, but the flickering flames from the lanterns that lit the inside of the inn hurt his vision making d’Artagnan snap his eyes shut. 

“The lights are bothering you?” Athos whispered as he carefully took the steps up leading to their room, somehow managing not to drop the child in his arms.

“Oui.” D’Artagnan’s eyes remained closed even after Athos carefully deposited him upon a bed.

“Well the doctor will be here shortly to check you over,” Athos glanced around their room. It would have to do. He couldn’t afford to leave the boy on his own and had asked the proprietor for a cot to be brought in for his own use.

“I’m going to change out of these smelly clothes into a dressing gown the owner so kindly provided me with. I have one for you as well and will help you do the same after you’ve been examined.” Athos started unbuttoning his doublet and wrinkled his nose in distaste as the smell of burnt wood hit his nostrils again. “And later I’ll see about getting us both set up with hot baths.”

Laughing shakily, d’Artagnan managed to open one eye, spying Athos’s dirty face. “Guess we’d scare Porthos and Aramis to death if they saw us now.”

Huffing with his own laughter, Athos nodded, wishing that his other two fellow conspirators could have been with them. A light knocking on the door startled him from his thoughts as Athos called out, “Entre!”

“Monsieurs,” Doctor Beaulieu walked in, clucking his tongue when he saw the state of the younger man. “May I be so impolite as to ask what happened to the youngster?” eyeing the older man critically he added, "and perhaps to you as well?"

“You may ask,” Athos retorted, “I may decide not to answer.”

“Athosssss,” d’Artagnan whined, begging him with his soft, brown eyes to play nice.

So that was how Athos ended up explaining about the fire and the boy’s injuries to the doctor. Then waited impatiently for the verdict from the physician.

“The cut to his forehead will need stitching I’m afraid.” Doctor Beaulieu noticed the child glance over at the other man, wondering if they were brothers. “Do you want me to do it or not?”

“Rather have Aramis,” d’Artagnan mumbled mutinously, a pout just beginning to form on his anxious face.

Frowning, Athos glared down at the lad. “Well, we’ll have to make do with what we have,” he snapped and wished instantly he could take back his harsh words as d’Artagnan tearfully looked away from him. Sighing, running a hand through his already disheveled and dirty hair, Athos nodded his acquiesce to the doctor.

In the meantime, Athos ordered food and wine for them both. Plenty of time to get cleaned up after they had some food in their stomachs. He had ordered the hot baths to be ready after they had partaken of a light repast.

It took nearly an hour of careful stitching but Athos couldn't complain about Beaulieu's work. He thanked the doctor for his trouble and slipped some money into Beaulieu’s hand before he left. Sitting on the edge of d’Artagnan’s bed, Athos patted the younger man's arm. “I’ve ordered some dinner for us,” he said softly. The child still refused to look his way. Grabbing the boy’s chin, he turned d’Artagnan’s face his way. “I am sorry for earlier. My worry for you ate at me.” Just then their dinner arrived. “Do me a favor and try to get some food into you.”

“I don’t know if I can keep anything down,” d’Artagnan reluctantly admitted. 

“You need to eat,” Athos pointed out gently but with enough force behind it to gain the pup's attention.

“I’ll try,” d’Artagnan gingerly sat up. Athos had helped him pile several pillows behind his back to bolster him while he ate.

++++

*Several hours later*

Athos hadn’t realized how trying it was to help someone to simply eat and keep their food down while they were at it. But gritting his teeth he had somehow managed it with d’Artagnan and to devour his own meal as well.

It also had been a struggle to get d’Artagnan bathed. After he had taken care of his own needs, Athos had painstakingly helped the child into and out of the tub. He didn’t know who was wetter before it was all done, himself or d’Artagnan. But finally having successfully settled the freshly scrubbed Gascon back under the protection of his blankets, Athos guessed it was time for that bedtime story he so foolishly promised the boy.

Puppy eyes watched his every movement and Athos couldn’t resist them, nor could anyone within the youngster's proximity. “I’ve already told you my title which of course I inherited and you’ve seen my estate,” he winced at knowing by morning nothing would be left of la Fere but ashes and dead memories.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” d’Artagnan admitted, blushing slightly and cursing himself for it. “Ever since I met you I’ve noticed that you carry yourself differently from others,” d’Artagnan's forehead creased in thought. "You’ve a great dignity about you.”

“So I’ve been told,” Athos snorted.

“Who is Anne?” d’Artagnan fired off bluntly. This was one question he did not want his friend to dodge, knowing that somehow he was just as involved in this intrigue as Athos.

“A complication,” Athos admitted rather roughly. “One I wouldn’t have wished on you for the world.”

“Could you be a little more explicit, please?”

“Anne was my wife,” Athos hesitated, not knowing how this would hit d’Artagnan, “and she is known to you as *Milady*.”

Sitting bolt upright in bed, making himself dizzy in turn, d’Artagnan was all eyes. “Non!” He didn’t want to believe it. For if it were true, it meant that he had slept with Athos’s wife.

“I recognized her as she rode away from la Fere just after I had rescued you.”

His head whirling with all the implications, d'Artagnan stared at his mentor in wonder. “What made you come after me?”

“As soon as I read your letter telling me where you were to meet Milady,” Athos stopped and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, “I had a niggling suspicion but thought it was pure fantasy on my part. So I asked Aramis and Porthos to tell me your description of her,” his eyes darkened to a deeper, darker blue. “That’s when I had a stronger feeling in my gut even though it warred with my head that I had to be wrong.”

“I wish you had been wrong,” d’Artagnan once again turned his face away from Athos, deeply ashamed of himself. Feeling a hand on his chin once more gently turning his face back, a tear slipped down d’Artagnan’s cheek.

“You weren’t to know, lad.”

“Athos,” d’Artagnan swallowed the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him, “I... I,” he closed his eyes as he admitted his sin, “slept with her.” Expecting fire and brimstone to reign down upon his head, d’Artagnan was truly astonished at Athos’s kindness toward him.

“I already suspected as much and once again... not your fault,” Athos’s eyes held great sadness within. “I’m sure Anne has not played the innocent these past five years.” Staring intently at the pup, Athos was curious about one thing. “What did you do to her that warranted Anne’s actions against you tonight?”

“Refused Milady’s offer to work with her and Cardinal Richelieu.”

Both eyebrows arched nearly to Athos’s hairline. “Merde! She’s his paid assassin as well as a spy then! For that is the type of person Richelieu hires on his own behalf and our king is none the wiser."

“Did you say *assassin*?” Now it was d’Artagnan’s turn to be stunned.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you what sin she committed against me that forced my hand into having her hung,” Athos could see the child’s eyes glazing over with so much information.

“I’m afraid to find out now,” d’Artagnan’s voice trembled from his emotions and on top of that learning that one of his best friends had his own wife hung.

“Anne killed my younger brother Thomas.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” d’Artagnan turned white as the blankets that covered him.

“Don’t you dare!” Athos held a warning finger up.

“You do realize we’re going to have to explain all this to Aramis and Porthos when we get home,” d’Artagnan sighed and laid back down in bed, pulling the covers over his head as if to hide from the world.

“Yes, I don’t relish unloading my dirty linen in front of any others, but when Anne involved you in her plotting she placed your life in grave danger.” Disturbed beyond measure by this evenings revelations, Athos’s gaze was fierce. “If the cardinal has been watching your movements Treville will be told and then we’ll see how to proceed.”

“Great, just great!” d’Artagnan complained. “All I wanted to do was become a Musketeer... not a liability.”

“One worry at a time, boy,” Athos’s tone was grim this time. “For now you need rest. If you’re up to it by morning we’ll head off to Paris.”

“Aramis will have a fit when he sees my face, won’t he?”

“No doubt, but I feel our brothers will be pleased just to see us return to them.”

“It’s nice to have friends that care,” d’Artagnan’s words began to slur as sleep finally claimed him.

“And new ones that may end up greying my hair and giving me ulcers sooner than I would like,” running his hand lightly through d’Artagnan’s long locks, Athos then prepared for his own bed.


	13. Chapter 13

*Back in Paris, Musketeer Garrison - infirmary*

“What did you two get yourselves involved in this time?” Aramis asked, slapping his hat against his thigh angrily. The boy looked like death warmed over, and it was a wonder d’Artagnan was even alive from the appearance of the lad’s injury. Concussion not withstanding, which the good doctor had told them the boy had suffered, it hurt Aramis to even look at their pup.

Sitting on the edge of d’Artagnan’s bed, Athos couldn’t meet his friend’s eyes. “My past I’m afraid.”

“Huh?” Porthos looked down at the raw looking wound across d’Artagnan’s forehead and grimaced. "This had better be good," he growled, "because our kid looks like he lost a fight with a grizzly."

“Good needlework by the way,” Aramis hummed as he sat on the other side of d’Artagnan’s bed. He wanted to get a closer look and check the stitching out.

“Wanted you, Mis,” d’Artagnan mumbled, leaning into the warmth of Aramis’s touch as the older Musketeer gently cupped his cheek. Feeling a tug on his foot, d’Artagnan saw Porthos smiling at him from the end of his bed and he gave his huge friend a weak wave in return.

“In a nut shell,” Athos broke the tender moment,” d’Artagnan’s *Milady* is my dead wife - Anne.”

“I beg your pardon,” Aramis dropped his hand instantly from the youngster’s face and stared at Athos as if the man had gone insane. “Did you say *dead wife*?”

“Apparently she’s prone to resurrections,” Athos shot back dryly. He could tell Aramis thought he was off his head and he couldn’t gauge Porthos’s reaction at all from the blank stare he received from him.

“And now she has a new name?” Porthos thought this whole thing was starting to have a messy feel to it.

So Athos went into a brief explanation of his background as the comte, what Anne was to him and how she killed his younger brother. “Now she’s targeted d’Artagnan because he had the good sense to refuse her proposition.”

“Which was?” Aramis gave the lad a comforting pat on d’Artagnan’s chest. It actually was more for himself than the child. Aramis needed to feel life breathing into the stubborn Gascon. He shuddered at what would have happened if Milady would have killed their younger brother.

“Work with her under Cardinal Richelieu’s protection.” Athos noticed d’Artagnan slide further under his mound of blankets, afraid to look at either Porthos or Aramis.

“Ah damn!” Aramis swore softly!

“Thing is, our pup’s carrying a weight load of guilt right now,” Athos stopped abruptly at d’Artagnan’s yelp.

“Non! Don’t tell them!” D’Artagnan was embarrassed enough without Athos waving his peccadilloes in front of the other two men.

“He slept with Anne and there should be no guilt associated with the deed since he had no idea to her true identity.”

“Nor about your being the Comte de la Fere, which by the way you never bothered mentioning to us throughout our long five years together,” Aramis pouted.

“D’Artagnan does it way better than that,” Porthos grunt of laughter managed to break the tense atmosphere and in doing so got a shy smile out of the lad.

“Needless to say, Anne’s out to kill d’Artagnan now and probably me as well,” Athos admitted, sharing a concerned look with their young one.

“Does Treville know?” Aramis needn’t of bothered asking as the captain chose that moment to enter the infirmary.

“I heard that,” Treville responded quietly. “As soon as Athos and d’Artagnan returned, Athos informed me of what took place." Glancing at the boy, all Treville could see was the top of d'Artagnan's head covered as he was. Then he observed his top three soldiers appeared deeply troubled. “Is the lad going to be all right?”

“Our pup has a mild concussion,” Athos supplied. “He’ll live.”

“Head still hurts,” d’Artagnan grumbled, half awake. “Feels like I drank Porthos under the table.”

“You don’t have it in you, d’Art,” Porthos playfully tugged again at the boy’s foot.

“If d’Artagnan hangs around you three long enough he will,” Treville snorted at the amusement written on the inseparables faces. Damn but didn’t they look proud of that fact?

“So how to we attack this, sir,” Athos asked impatiently, “since d’Artagnan’s caught the cardinal’s interest.”

“We put the lad in his Eminence’s cross-hairs.” Oh and now shit has indeed hit the fan as Treville's gaze encountered three furious Musketeers glaring back at him. “Stand down, men,” he ordered gruffly.

“You’re saying that d’Artagnan should present himself to Richelieu just after he refused Anne's request?” Athos was bewildered. It didn’t make much sense to him. Though knowing Treville there had to be something underhanded about it that would escape the cardinal’s notice.

“I will bet good money on the fact that Milady hasn’t told Cardinal Richelieu about her relationship to you, Athos. Therefore he’ll know nothing of what occurred at la Fere.” Treville glanced at the innocent looking Gascon slumbering away. "So his Eminence won't have any knowledge of her attempted murder of the boy as well," he rubbed at his beard while he ran scenarios in his head. “D’Artagnan can simply tell the cardinal that he had a change of heart when he appears before him next.”

“Tis a dangerous masquerade,” Aramis muttered. Not happy in the slightest about using the youngster in this way.

“What about when the pup has to deal with her?” Porthos folded his arms, giving Treville a stern look.

“Our boy’s good at thinking on his feet,” Treville knew his men understood that fact. “He’ll do what’s necessary at the given time.”

“Won’t sleep with her ever again,” d’Artagnan muttered groggily. Opening one sleepy eye he caught Aramis’s gaze. “Why am I so tired?”

“The doc gave you something for the pain,” Porthos replied instead. It never hit him so much as it did now how very young their lad appeared covered with all those blankets. Just like the little boy they teased him of being.

“Still won’t sleep with Milady, no matter what,” d’Artagnan grumbled, “she’s Athos's dead wife.”

“And that pretty much sums it up, gents.” Treville leaned down and patted d'Artagnan lightly on the head. “Sleep, son. We’ll discuss things later when you feel more yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Stepping further away from the child’s bedside, Aramis grabbed Athos by the arm, shaking it roughly. “D’Artagnan’s life will be in constant danger if he agrees to doing this,” he hissed, running a hand through his tangled hair making it look wilder than before. "And we all know the pup will agree." Aramis kicked out at a chair making it tip over onto the hardwood floor. "Merde! What a damnable situation this is!" He would have liked nothing better than to shoot Milady himself and then life could return to normal or as normal as it can be for them. "This isn’t even something the captain could ever tell King Louis about because his Majesty loves the cardinal like a father.” Aramis paced in a circle, agitated in the extreme.

“Yeah,” Porthos’s dark eyes flared. “Pup’s not even a Musketeer yet.”

“But well on his way to becoming one of us which makes all the difference,” Treville butted in. “I believe d’Artagnan can handle himself and so should all of you.” Other matters needed attending too and with a nod at his men, Treville abruptly left their company.

“We will be the youngster’s guardians in all this,” Athos voiced firmly, “whether d’Artagnan or Treville like it or not.” He wasn’t pleased with his captain's idea very much either. “But if we can manage to foil any plotting on Richelieu’s end then it will be well worth the effort.”

“Without making it look like d’Artagnan had any part in it,” Porthos grinned. “Now I’m beginning to like this plan.”

“Our young one appears to be most innocent in sleep,” Aramis mused, “not much difference when he’s awake either,” he chuckled. “Perhaps that can work in d’Artagnan’s favor. Richelieu might even blame Milady for any of his future plans coming to ruin instead of looking our pup’s way.”

“Also this may bring the lad to King Louis attention all the more and d’Artagnan could be well on his way to securing that commission we all want for him,” Athos grinned slyly.

“I doubt d’Artagnan has anything to worry about in that department,” Aramis winked. “He’s already pledged to be Queen Anne’s friend and confidant. The boy's already giving advice to the lovelorn a/k/a our king, and in Masselin’s case d’Artagnan can do no wrong.”

This being said, all three men were quite vocal in their laughter, forgetting they were in the infirmary until the doctor strode over to remind them. “There are sick and injured men in the room,” he hissed.

“Including me,” d’Artagnan once again opened a lazy eye and glared at his friends. “Do shut up please,” and then he slipped back into slumber that quickly.

“So please, gentlemen, if you must amuse yourselves, take it outside,” the doctor snapped, turning around in a huff to treat his other patients.

“Gentlemen, we’ve been given our marching orders.” Athos ushered his other two friends outside but not before taking one last look at the boy who had overtaken his heart with all the force of a mighty campaign. In such a short time d’Artagnan had become Athos’s world. With Anne hovering over their heads like a vulture waiting for its unsuspecting prey, his worries grew for anyone who may get caught in her web of deceit. If she so much as touched a hair on that boy’s head her life would be forfeit. Athos would kill her without remorse.


	14. Chapter 14

*Musketeer garrison, a week later*

“I’m sufficiently recovered,” d’Artagnan kept throwing Aramis’s hands off him as the older Musketeer insisted on checking his stitches, which d’Artagnan said were healing quite nicely.

“You ready to present yourself to Cardinal Richelieu,” Athos tried not to have the worry in his voice carry over to the boy but knew he hadn’t succeeded very well as d’Artagnan rolled his eyes.

“Oui,” d’Artagnan snickered. “Never thought I’d be playing this sort of role when I rode back to Paris with you, Athos.”

Slapping his gloves lightly against the young Gascon’s chest, Athos grim countenance relaxed slightly. “Be vigilant in all things and lie like the devil is at your heels.”

"That should be easy since Richelieu is the very devil himself," Porthos grunted.

Winking at Porthos and sending a jaunty salute towards Athos and Aramis, d’Artagnan left their company.

Watching their pup stroll away, Aramis and Porthos went to stand beside the now silent Athos.

“We observe from afar then?” Aramis fingered his poignard and worried.

“This won’t all be fun and games,” Porthos’s gruff voice filled the void that suddenly opened up with their lad leaving them behind.

“We will keep our eyes and ears open as we always do.” Athos eyebrow shot up and he took a deep breath letting it out slowly as he clenched his fists. “Anne will not have the opportunity to strike at d’Artagnan again. I vow this!”

“You cannot be everywhere at once, mon ami,” Aramis pointed out, “nor can Porthos or I.”

“If needs must there are a few other fellow Musketeers who would happily offer their services to help us in our endeavor,” Athos offered.

“Rene comes to mind,” Aramus mused. “He took to d’Artagnan like a long lost brother if I remember correctly.”

“You do,” Porthos added. “Whenever we weren’t available, d’Art and Rene got into enough mischief to add more grey to our captain’s hair.”

“Then we can count on Rene’s help later on if needed,” Athos nodded his head, pleased knowing there were others that cared for d’Artagnan’s welfare.

“I could call in some markers from the court too,” Porthos said, noticing Aramis’s surprise at this.

“When the time comes I’ll let you know if that help would be required, and you have my thanks for the offer,” Athos locked eyes with his large friend, knowing they were only concerned for the child’s safety in this whole affair.

“Come, let us follow,” Athos said, “before we lose track of d’Artagnan.”

++++

*Cardinal Richelieu’s office*

“So, d’Artagnan, what changed your mind?” Richelieu wondered where the youngster received his head wound. No doubt in a bar fight. Treville's men knew practically every tavern in Paris.

“It’s not so much I changed my mind but then thought I could have the best of both worlds, your Eminence.”

“You have me quite curious, young d’Artagnan,” the cardinal held out his hand. “Continue,” he sat back in his chair and listened with avid interest.

“True, I am just eighteen years of age, but I am ambitious with it.” D’Artagnan tried not to lose his sang-froid as he went on with his elaborate lie. “I can still attain my goal of becoming a Musketeer and serve you in any capacity wished,” he shrugged lightly. “This way no one would be the wiser to my other calling.”

“That of?” Richelieu thought he knew what the boy was proposing but wanted to hear it from d’Artagnan’s own lips.

“That of spy and assassin for you.”

“Ah!” Richelieu rubbed at his beard as he took stock of the young man before him. “What makes you think your new friends and Treville won’t see through this deception?”

“Because I helped clear Athos’s name and he and the others trust me.” D’Artagnan went on to elaborate. “The captain knew my father and knows,” he grinned slyly, “or thinks he knows what type of man I am and could become under his tutelage.”

“I’m intrigued, I must say,” Richelieu stood up and walked over to the youngster and held out his hand to which d’Artagnan bent over and kissed reverently. “We have an agreement you and I,” he chuckled. “What I wouldn’t give to see Treville’s face if he knew what you’re going to become involved in.” Then he had a brilliant idea. “I have someone in mind that could work well with you.”

“Non,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “I work alone or not at all,” he was quite adamant in this and seeing Richelieu frown fiercely made d’Artagnan wonder if he just ruined all his chances. But there was no way he’d work with that viper Anne, for he knew that’s what was in the cardinal’s mind.

He marveled at this upstarts refusal to work with a partner. Glaring at d'Artagnan he snapped, “You’re not exactly in a position to dictate to me.”

“Ah!” d’Artagnan’s eyes held a wicked gleam. “I believe I am. Where else are you going to find a Musketeer willing to work for you?”

Nodding his head, Richelieu realized the lad's words held truth. These Musketeers held honor in the highest esteem. More fool them he thought. Returning to his desk, Richelieu focused his attention back on the Gascon. “This will be advantageous for both of us, d’Artagnan,” the cardinal nodded in acceptance. “I’ll be in touch when I have need of your services.”

Bowing formally, d’Artagnan backed away a short distance before smartly turning around to leave.

++++

Three men were very relieved to see d’Artagnan leaving Richelieu’s office in one piece. Following at a safe distance, the inseparables kept their young one in constant sight until d’Artagnan disappeared safely inside the garrison stables.

++++

*Richelieu’s office once again*

“And where have you’ve been?” Cardinal Richelieu snapped at the woman who hid herself in the shadows.

“I’ve had some personal business to attend,” Milady replied sharply, not liking the tone he used with her.

“I guess even an assassin deserves a holiday of sorts,” he admitted wryly, fingering his mustache. “I don’t have anything for you today,” he waved her away. “Go do whatever it is you do when not in my service.”

Not quite pleased with her early dismissal, Milady toyed with her choker, eyes downcast. “As you wish.”

++++

*Captain Treville’s office*

“Did the cardinal buy into your song and dance routine, d’Artagnan?” Treville studied the earnest youngster closely, wishing it didn’t have to be the boy they would be using in this elaborate ruse.

“I think I’ve missed my calling,” d’Artagnan sat on the edge of Treville’s desk. “Perhaps I should be acting on the stage.”

“Eh bien, they say all the world’s a stage after all,” Treville laughed. “You’re just acting in a small corner of it.” Turning serious, Treville needed to caution the lad. “You’ll be playing both sides of the fence as far as Richelieu’s concerned,” he played with his paper weight holding down today’s reports. “At least we’ll be one step ahead of him this time when he delves in these devilish intrigues of his, and hopefully we can then turn the tide in our favor.”

“That’s when I’ll have to make it look as if it was someone else’s fault the cardinal’s plans went south,” d’Artagnan grinned.

“I’ve seen you work those puppy eyes to your advantage on nearly everyone in the garrison,” Treville snorted. “Let’s pray the cardinal isn’t immune to your charms and that innocence wins over the day.”

“Porthos’s been teasing me relentlessly about that very thing,” d’Artagnan ducked his head shyly.

“Er, Oui,” Treville winced as he considered holding something back from the lad but it was better out in the open. He wasn’t especially pleased when they told him, feeling they may jeopardize d’Artagnan’s work. But knew in the long run this would be the best way to proceed. “Son, I couldn’t dissuade them.” Seeing the confused expression cross the young Gascon’s face, Treville elaborated. “Whenever his Eminence assigns you a task you’re going to have three guardian angels at your back.”

“Why am I not surprised,” d’Artagnan shook his head fondly. Standing up, he and Treville went outside to the balcony where d'Artagnan could see Athos, Porthos and Aramis sparring with younger recruits. “I should join them, sir.”

“We’ll talk again later, d’Artagnan.” 

As d’Artagnan walked down the steps and crossed the courtyard to where his friends were, he didn’t know that a vengeful pair of green eyes watched his every move.


	15. Chapter 15

*Captain Treville’s office*

Athos face reflected his concern and hidden fear, while Aramis’s brown eyes were thoughtful. Porthos looked like he was ready to bash some heads together. Captain Treville, aside from d’Artagnan, was the only one seeming pleased that the boy had finally been assigned a task by Cardinal Richelieu.

“What’s your mission to be, d’Artagnan?” Treville steepled his fingers together as he leaned forward on his desk.

“I’m to make sure Monsieur Xavier Deville does not make it safely to his destination,” d’Artagnan’s tone was grim as he contemplated what the cardinal had wanted him to do, which of course went against everything he stood for and wanted to be as a Musketeer. Then again, Richelieu didn’t know that. “Deville is to deliver secret documents from King Louis to another courier in Meung.”

“I know what those documents entail,” Treville offered. “Louis had discussed a situation he and the cardinal disagreed on.”

“So our Majesty is going behind Richelieu’s back,” Aramis grinned. “Good for him.”

“I’m disturbed that your first assignment has to be as an assassin,” Athos stared at his boots, hat low on his head that you couldn’t see his expression but all knew he was upset by the tone of his voice.

“Baptism by fire,” Aramis murmured, tipping his hat back from his head.

“Eh bien, whelp,” Porthos grunted, “what cha’ gonna do?”

“We all knew eventually the cardinal would give me a mission where I had to kill someone,” d’Artagnan glanced over at Athos but still couldn’t see the man’s eyes. “It’s just happening sooner than later. This could be a test and even if it is I have no intention of doing Deville in.”

“If Deville completes his duty your life’s on the line with Richeleiu,” Aramis was upset and showed his displeasure.

At first Porthos thought this would be a good thing to get the cardinal’s goat, but the more he dwelled on it d’Artagnan had the most to lose here. Being none too pleased for their youngest, Porthos was of two minds about this crazy plan. He hated to see the pup be exposed to such treachery. D’Artagnan needed to be eased into the court intrigues that go on behind closed doors as well as Richelieu’s schemes.

“I understand that you three insist on becoming my shadows when the cardinal calls on me from now on,” d’Artagnan huffed and rolled his eyes. “If so then please become invisible or you’ll ruin everything.”

“Our boyo’s givin’ us orders now,” Porthos grinned.

“I agree with the lad,” Treville nodded. “Make sure you do nothing to jeopardize d’Artagnan’s work.”

“You’re going to have to figure out a plan, d’Artagnan,” Athos reminded the youngster. “We realize you’re not going to commit murder, so you better have a good idea up your sleeve.”

“I already do,” d’Artagnan willed his friends to trust him in this. “I’m going to take your words to heart, Athos and lie like the devil’s at my heels.”

“Still, what will you do when the cardinal finds out Deville completed his mission?” Aramis crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

“I’m going to explain to Cardinal Richelieu that I ambushed Monsieur Deville, killed him and got rid of the body. But I will tell him there were no documents anywhere to be found,” d’Artagnan glanced at the captain to see if he agreed with where he was going with this.

“That’s very plausible,” Treville nodded in agreement. “Actually I couldn’t have thought up a better plan myself.”

“Ah!” Athos understood immediately. “Therefore making Richelieu believe Deville handed the documents off to someone else and he was the decoy,” Athos slowly smiled at his protégé. “Well thought, d’Artagnan.”

“My thanks,” d’Artagnan smiled, ducking his head slightly so that his long, brown hair covered his eyes. Secretly he was tickled that Athos thought his idea held merit. “What I am going to do is make sure Monsieur Deville gets to his destination safely.”

“Have to account for your time somehow eh,” Porthos laughed, thinking what a sneaky little bugger their youngest was.

“One thing bothers me,” Aramis watched the youngster’s head snap back up and look at him anxiously. “What happens if Deville comes back this way and the cardinal sees a live ghost?”

“Non,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “After meeting with the other courier, Monsieur Deville was going straight to Le Harve to take the next ship out.”

“To where?” Treville asked, glancing at Athos as his lieutenant’s lips tightened.

“Not quite sure on that score, sir,” d’Artagnan replied wishing he could supply the captain with an answer. “I only know what the cardinal decided to divulge to me about Monsieur Deville, which wasn’t very much.”

“As long as he’s not comin’ back then your ruse is safe,” Porthos placed a hand on the boy’s back.

“Deville is going to be leaving soon, I must be getting ready to leave.” Striding to the door, Athos was two steps behind d'Artagnan.

“D’Artagnan,” Athos couldn’t explain it, but he held a deep fear for the boy that wouldn’t abate no matter how hard he tried. The young man stopped and turned to face him. “We’ll not be far away from you. If at anytime you feel things are not right, whistle for us.”

Grateful, despite at first being annoyed, d’Artagnan bobbed his head and smiled at Athos before leaving.

++++

*Part of the mission accomplished, all the boys are on their way back to the garrison*

D’Artagnan was pleased that Monsieur Deville safely got his documents handed off and was heading to Le Harve. Knowing his three guardians were watching his back, d’Artagnan knew out of all of them that Athos had worried the most. Happy that his mentor was proven wrong for now, he started whistling.

++++

“Why’s the whelp whistling now,” Porthos grunted. “he’s not in any danger?”

“Our youngster’s happy,” Aramis smiled. “Can’t you hear the jaunty tune?”

“Well, nothing untoward happened to our pup, but there’s still Richelieu left to deal with,” Athos remarked. Hearing the lad whistling though lightened his heart as they all headed home.

++++

*Four days later, Cardinal Richelieu’s office*

Drumming his fingers on top of his desk, Richelieu waited impatiently for d’Artagnan’s return. When his Red Guards came to inform him that the youngster was just outside his doors, he waved his hand at the guard to bring d’Artagnan inside.

Kneeling on one knee, d’Artagnan bowed his head before his Eminence before standing back up.

“Is Xavier Deville dead?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan figured the cardinal would get straight to the point. He hoped he appeared deadly serious as he lied through his teeth to his Eminence.

“The body?”

“Disposed of,” d’Artagnan tried to calm his shaky nerves as he continued his deception. “No one will ever locate where I got rid of it." 

“Ah! Music to my ears,” the cardinal chuckled as he held out his hand.

Knowing what Richelieu wanted, d’Artagnan dreaded his next words. “I believe you were misinformed for Deville had no documents on his person,” he winced as Richelieu swore violently and nearly knocked over his chair when he stood up. He was in such a rage that d’Artagnan did fear for his life; his hand ready to reach for his sword at any moment.

“Decoy?” Richelieu spat in an anger that he could barely contain.

“Jepense que ou,” d’Artagnan stiffened waiting to see what the cardinal’s actions would be.

Getting a hold of himself, Cardinal Richelieu finally sat back down, reached into one of the desk drawers and pulled out a pouch. He casually threw it at the boy who caught it in one hand, complete surprise on his youthful features.

Hearing the coins jingle as he caught his payment, d’Artagnan knew what it was for but was puzzled. “I didn’t expect this since I didn’t complete my assignment, your Eminence.”

“You did kill the man and took care of the body,” Richelieu said dryly. “That’s worth something at least.”

“Maisoui, bien sur,” d’Artagnan dipped his head slightly. “My thanks.”

“You’re dismissed,” Richelieu’s curt tone didn’t have the effect on d’Artagnan as it normally had on most others as the youngster never flinched. “I’m sure Treville will be anxiously waiting your return.”

“Captain Treville believes I was delivering a missive for both you and the king,” d’Artagnan laughed. “I doubt he’ll be fretting.” Putting on his most innocent expression, that always worked wonders for whenever he was caught in sticky situations, d’Artagnan appeared quite sincere. “I’m just sorry I didn’t recover those papers for you.”

“As they say... better luck next time,” Richelieu waved the young man away and sat alone with his own thoughts about the documents that slipped out of his hands.

++++

After closing the doors behind him, d’Artagnan’s momentum halted as he came face to face with Milady. The latter was about to enter the cardinal’s office. He’d wait and see how she wanted to play this out and act accordingly.

“D’Artagnan,” Milady frowned as she had seen the young man come out of Richelieu’s office. “Slumming?”

“Hardly,” d’Artagnan snickered. “Two can play at this game, Milady,” he dipped his head toward her. “I came to my senses and realized I wanted to be on the winning side.”

“You mean your near death experience gave you a change of heart?” Milady was quite skeptical about the boy’s about face.

“In a manner of speaking,” d’Artagnan grinned slyly. “You could say it was all thanks to you.”

“In that case,” she smiled coyly, “do you want to pick up where we left off?” Milady arched a delicate eyebrow. “Mainly... my bedroom.”

“Sadly, I have to decline your oh so generous offer of your person,” d’Artagnan tried not to laugh at the outrage crossing her face. Milady was quite vexed with him again, and he figured it was wise not to antagonize her any further. Before departing d’Artagnan said, “Be at ease, Cardinal Richelieu does not know about you and Athos or that you tried to kill me.”

“Keeping your own council? Is that wise for I could still tell him about everything,” Milady had murder in her eyes as she gazed at the young man.

“Milady, if Richelieu realized you’re still considered married to a Musketeer, how far do you think he’d trust you in the future?”

She had not thought of that. The child had the right of it. Milady would have to tread carefully from now on and stay clear of the wretched Musketeers. Though she couldn’t make any promises to herself about d’Artagnan.


	16. Chapter 16

*Aramis's apartments*

Sitting around the table, the three inseparables teased d'Artagnan about his sudden wealth as they drank a toast to him.

"What cha' gonna do with them coins, bucko?" Porthos fiddled with his wine glass as he held d'Artagnan's amused gaze.

"Why share my windfall with my friends of course," d'Artagnan who was still standing bowed before them. "At first I actually felt guilty," he grinned. "Though since it came from the cardinal I figured I could be forgiven for keeping it." D'Artagnan decided to sit down as Aramis pushed a chair toward him with his boot. Nodding his thanks, d'Artagnan reached for his own glass of wine which Porthos generously filled to the top. "I talked with Captain Treville about it and together we decided that he'd keep half of it which would go toward purchasing much needed equipment for the Musketeer regiment."

"And you get the other half," Athos nodded in approval. Pleased at how d'Artagnan used his head.

"I'd a kept the whole lot of coins," Porthos grunted his displeasure. "How you ever gonna save enough for your old age?"

Spluttering out the wine he just drank, d'Artagnan thought perhaps he had misunderstood his friend but somehow he doubted it. "Old age?"

Wiping some wine off his doubtlet, Aramis glared at Porthos, likewise Athos as he now sported wine stains on his own person.

"I ain't said nothin' wrong?" Porthos retorted, sticking to his guns on the matter.

"Porthos," d'Artagnan smiled gently at his huge friend, "I'm only eighteen years of age, not married and I doubt very much I ever will be," he sighed. "No famille left..."

"I thought that's the role we filled," Aramus interjected, feeling slightly hurt.

Blushing, d'Artagnan ducked his head and peeked out from between his bangs. "Apologies for my stupidity."

"Forgiven, pup," Athos growled but with a smile and a wink for the boy. "Continue please."

"As I was saying, there's no reason for me to be tightfisted with my money as yet," d'Artagnan accepted another glass of wine, this time Athos poured. "I felt my duty was to share my profit with my soon to be brothers."

Opening his mouth to argue the point, Porthos shut it as Athos raised a brow aiming it his direction. "Seems I'm outnumbered in this," he grumbled low. "Only thinkin' of you, boyo."

"You were thinking of all that food and wine d'Artagnan's money could have provided," Aramis chuckled, knowing how his friend thought.

"That's what I was going to ask all of you when I came here," d'Artagnan laughed. "I would be pleased if you three would be my guests and dine with me at the Grey Sails Inn," glancing at Porthos's face, d'Artagnan winked. "Dinner's on me."

"Well why didn't you say so in the first place, d'Art?" Porthos growled, earning ironic looks from all the men present.

"You see how Porthos has suddenly forgotten all about how our poor d'Artagnan should be saving his hard earned coin after the offer of food and wine was put on the table?" Athos shook his head fondly as Porthos glared back at him.

"Oh shut your trap, Athos," Porthos snapped.

Deciding to change the topic before fists began to fly, d'Artagnan specifically targeted Athos. "By the way, when I was leaving Richelieu's office I ran into Milady about to pay the cardinal a visit as well."

Straightening up in his chair, Athos slammed his glass down. His insides quaked at the mere idea of that woman being anywhere near their young one. "Anne did not touch you did she?"

"Non! I fed her a pack of lies like I did Richelieu and she thought that meant we could pick up where we left off."

"Anne expected you to grace her bed once more," Athos nodded, knowing that would be how she would proceed.

Expression darkening, d'Artagnan remembered how he felt at seeing her after their last meeting at la Fere. "I set her right on that score and her green eyes could have turned me to cinders right on the spot."

"Watch your back with that spitfire, d'Art," Porthos warned.

"Oh I know that now, Porthos," d'Artagnan huffed when he thought back to how he behaved like a young idiot with her. "Anyway I also told her that I mentioned nothing to the cardinal about her marriage to you, Athos."

"How did she take that news?" Aramis leaned forward on the table, most curious as to how a lady assassin's mind works.

Placing both legs up on a stool, d'Artagnan leaned comfortably back on his chair. "I may have slightly hinted at the possibility I could always whisper in the cardinal's ear about her background," he took another sip of his wine. "Which would include everything that happened at la Fere as well." Draining his glass he placed it back on the table and began to push it around for something to do as he stared at it thinking.  "I believe in the future she may steer clear of us or at least you, Athos."

"Now why would she do anything like that?" Athos asked dryly, finishing his third glass of wine.

"Because I reminded her the cardinal would have no use for her once it was discovered that she was married to a Musketeer."

"Ah!" Aramis laughed. "I think we're rubbing off on you, d'Artagnan."

"That's hardly a compliment," Athos rolled his eyes.

"I'd take it as one," Porthos grunted. "We're fine examples to follow."

"Yes," Athos agreed, "but follow into what exactly?"

"Well I say well played, mon garcon," Aramis grinned.

"Now's the time to petition for a divorce now that you know Anne lives," d'Artagnan suggested with all seriousness.

"You do have a point," Athos smiled grimly. "As I have no intention of ever marrying again I find I do not care in the slightest."

About to tell Athos to think carefully on it, d'Artagnan's words died in his throat as Aramis shook his head at him. So he let it go for now. Standing back up, d'Artagnan took in his friend's expectant faces. "I promised Constance I'd help her with some deliveries since Treville didn't need me for anything today. So I'll leave you three to get into mischief without me."

"I doubt that now that you're here, d'Artagnan. You're fast replacing us as head mischief maker, lad," Aramis grinned with a wink. "Mon ami, you're simply putting us to shame, tsk tsk."

"Aramis, please!" d'Artagnan laughed at his friend's silliness.

"How about we put in some target practice a bit later," Aramis suggested. "I know Treville was going to ease off on your training for the next few days considering everything that's happened, but I see no sense letting your lessons go for naught."

"Constance said we would only be about an hour or so," d'Artagnan grinned, looking forward to the coming workout.

"How about a little more hand-to-hand too?" Porthos suggested as well.

"Fine with me," d'Artagnan smiled and then glanced over at Athos to see if he had anything to add.

"Oh, all right," Athos gazed fondly at their pup. "Your footwork could be better than it is," he noticed d'Artagnan wasn't exactly pleased at his words. "We'll cross swords after these two get done with you."

"Then I will see all of you shortly." Waving goodbye, d'Artagnan left to go meet up with Constance.

"Whose turn is it to follow him?" Athos's steely eyed glance caught and held each of his brothers.

"Guess it's me," Porthos stood up and stretched. "Hope Constance walks fast or this will be pretty boring."

"Get on with you now," Aramis nodded at the door that d'Artagnan just disappeared through.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gone," Porthos grunted and slipped out of the room.

++++

"Why is Porthos following us?" Constance looked at d'Artagnan sideways as he held her bolts of cloths in his arms.

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan grimaced. "We're not supposed to know he's there," he snorted in exasperation.

"Tell him that," Constance laughed as she plucked one of the bolts of fabric from his grip.

Not daring to glance back and take a look at his friend, d'Artagnan made a mental note to remind Porthos to use more stealth next time. But what was odd about that was the fact Porthos had been raised mostly in the Court of Miracles. S _tealth_ was the man's middle name, unless he was in his cups.

Trying to concentrate on following Constance, d'Artagnan missed seeing a man approaching him from off to his right. It wasn't until he felt a blade against his throat that d'Artagnan realized too late that he may have put Constance in danger as well.

"I could cut you up in tiny pieces or big ones," the man hissed, "which would you prefer?"

"The lad would prefer neither, you lout!" Porthos knocked the sharp poignard out of the assailant's hand and picked him up, throwing the man into a bunch of wine barrels. Grinning, Porthos slapped d'Artagnan on the back.

"Merci, Porthos," d'Artagnan laughed, once he had gotten over his shock. "Now we have to wait for him to wake up to see who hired him to kill me." D'Artagnan waited for Constance to come out of her customer's home. He was glad she missed all the excitement. But knowing her, Constance would have cheered Porthos on.

As Constance finally joined them, she glanced down at the unconscious body of a man surrounded by broken pieces of wood. Suspiciously she looked at Porthos and d'Artagnan's not so innocent expressions and huffed. "Friend of yours?"

Both men broke out laughing along with her as they waited for the poor sot to wake up.

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than usual, but it's Xmas eve and I am going to get ready to go to church. Still I wanted to get this part posted.
> 
> ++++

*On the streets of Paris*

“How long do we have to wait for this idiot to wake up?” Constance poked the unconscious man with a dainty foot. “We still have a few more stops to make,” Constance glared up at Porthos’s grinning face.

“Porthos?” d’Artagnan questioned with a sharp look at the bigger man.

Looking down at d’Artagnan’s attacker, Porthos grunted and walked over to the only barrel of wine still standing untouched. With one mighty punch, wood splintered in all directions as Porthos’s fist impacted with the top of the barrel. He then picked it up and poured it over the man lying on the dirty street.

“Merde!” the man sputtered as he woke up, only to face something out of his own nightmares. A hulking brute of a Musketeer wearing a sinister smile on his face that spelled nothing but trouble for himself.

Leaning down, Porthos snared the man by his jacket and lifted him up in the air with one arm. “Don’t... make... me... hurt... you.” Porthos heard Constance giggling behind him and the sound was joined by an amused snort from d’Artagnan. “Children, behave,” he warned but he smiled just the same.

“Do you think you could put me down?” The man’s feet dangled off the ground and he was decidedly uncomfortable in this position.

Leering into the man’s face, Porthos sneered. “Give me a good reason too. Like say, who hired you to kill my young friend here?” Porthos pointed behind him at d’Artagnan, the latter peeked around the larger man’s shoulder giving a cheeky grin to the captive.

“Don’t know... her name... ya see,” he stammered, scared that this Musketeer would be the end of him. “Pretty she was. Paid good coin for the lad’s death.”

Paling considerably, d’Artagnan swayed slightly, earning him a concerned look from Constance. “Describe her,” he snapped out.

“Long, dark, wavy hair,” the man swallowed hard as the Musketeer that held him gave him a hardy shaking. “Green eyes that promised heaven or hell in her arms,” he choked out rapidly for fear of having his brains shaken out by the dark Musketeer.

“Milady,” d’Artagnan closed his eyes as if in pain.

Releasing the scum, Porthos gave him a mighty punch, knocking him out cold. “This one’s for the Bastille,” Porthos growled. Glancing back at the boy, Porthos worried because d’Artagnan appeared sick. “D’Art, ya gonna be all right, boyo?”

Oui,” d’Artagnan gave his friend a rather weak smile. “Why don’t you go on ahead and take him back with you,” he urged but saw the stubborn jut of Porthos’s chin. D’Artagnan wanted to stave off an ensuing argument if he could. “I doubt Milady hired more than one at a time,” he remarked ruefully. “I should be relatively safe for the rest of the day.”

Grunting, Porthos nodded and picked up the unconscious man, hefting him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Watch your back anyway, lad.”

Wondering what was going on after listening to everything, Constance bit her lip. “Did you do something stupid that made that oaf want to end your life?”

Wincing, d’Artagnan didn’t know how to explain the situation he now found himself in without falling out of Constance’s good graces. Honesty was the only thing that she would accept and d’Artagnan knew it. “Do not think badly of me, Constance, but I had a brief liaison once with a woman named Milady,” he sighed, running his hands through his hair making it a mess. “Turns out that she’s a paid assassin and a spy for Cardinal Richelieu and wanted me to join their side instead of becoming a Musketeer.”

Constance had gasped out loud as d’Artagnan mentioned he had become entangled with this woman. At first she felt hurt but Constance knew that was a ridiculous emotion to have since she was a married woman herself. D’Artagnan was free to see whomever he wished. “You turned her offer down of course?” She may tease d’Artagnan from time to time about being or doing something *stupid*, but in her heart Constance knew d’Artagnan would only ever do the right thing.

“Oui,” d’Artagnan gave her his most engaging grin, ducking his head slightly. “Then she tried to kill me.”

“Just now, oui,” Constance nodded in understanding then frowned at the grimace that crossed d’Artagnan’s face.

“Non,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “This is Milady’s second attempt on my life,” he responded dryly. “There’s a lot more that’s happened which I am not at liberty to divulge at this time because it involves other people and I cannot speak of their private matters freely.”

“In other words it’s complicated,” Constance noted wryly. “Things are always *complicated* with you, d’Artagnan.”

“Quite,” was d’Artagnan’s clipped response. “Come, let’s finish your chore. I’ll have to get back to the garrison and report to Captain Treville. If anything, he'll be worried for me."

“I’m sure Porthos will inform the captain what's happened, d’Artagnan.”

“I fear if I don’t return within a reasonable amount of time that Athos may box my ears,” d’Artagnan snorted.

“All of you are up to something dangerous and I guess it's none of my business,” Constance sighed and placed a caring hand on d’Artagnan’s arm. “I just worry for you.” She hoped her burgeoning feelings for this young Gascon weren’t expressed on her face as she felt her cheeks heat up. As Constance thought earlier, being a married woman, she should act accordingly and not like one of the hussy’s that worked the streets of Paris. But when Constance was in d’Artagnan’s company, she felt younger than she had in a very long time. Hearing about him and this Milady definitely shook her up, but he had his own life to live and it would be unnatural if d’Artagnan didn’t sow some wild oats of his own. The most Constance could hope to do was offer what she thought would be sound advice, rather like that of an older sister no matter how much she might dislike it.

Picking up her hand, d’Artagnan bent over to place a chaste kiss upon it. “I believe you said you had a few more customers to see. So let’s hurry and get them finished up and I’ll return you safely back to your house and be off.”

++++

After d’Artagnan made sure he delivered Constance home he headed straight for the garrison but not without mishap along the way. D’Artagnan’s mind raced with thoughts of Milady trying to murder him again. So much so that he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings and allowed someone to sneak up behind him so it was too late to protect himself against the attack when it came.

A cloth soaked in something sickening sweet smelling was placed over his mouth as he struggled against the brutish strength wrapped around his body until he collapsed and knew no more.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm actually feeling a bit better and hashed this out last night and got it up today.  
> See my note at end of this chapter.
> 
> ++++

*Captain Treville’s office*

Leaning casually against the wall, Aramis’s brow furrowed as he glanced over at Athos’s pensive face. The silent communication between the two men very evident. Both worried over their youngest member. It had been at least half an hour since Porthos’s return without the boy. “If Constance only had two more customers to see too then d'Artagnan should be back by now." 

Boring a hole through Porthos's back as the larger Musketeer was talking to Treville, Athos’s composure snapped in two with his concern for their young pup. “Porthos! Why in all the heavens didn’t you just drag d’Artagnan back with you?”

Whirling around to face Athos's anger, Porthos scowled as he heard the silent accusation in his friend’s words. “Cause d’Art didn’t think two attempts back to back was gonna happen!” He ran a hand down the back of his neck and sighed. “I told him to watch himself anyway and I know he had every intention of gettin’ back here to report to the captain.”

Going nose to nose with Porthos, Athos growled low. “You don’t see him anywhere around here do you?”

Knowing Athos needed to get things off his chest, Aramis kept out of it up until now. He slowly approached both his comrades and placed a friendly arm around each of their shoulders, drawing them in close. “If you two are quite done I think a better solution is warranted than this sniping at one another,” he smiled at the two men. “Let us be off in search of the lad ourselves.” Glancing from one set face to the other, Aramis gave them both a gentle shake. “D’Artagnan would not appreciate seeing you two at sixes and sevens with each other.”

Grumbling that Aramis had a point, Porthos opened his mouth to apologize to Athos, but the older man beat him to it.

“I’m sorry, mon ami,” Athos pulled Porthos in for a quick hug and pat on the back, then stepped back. “Tis only knowing that my witch of a wife is out there trying to kill d’Artagnan that has my guts tied up into knots.”

Before Porthos could respond to that remark, a child near ten years of age barged into the captain’s office. Realizing he hadn't knocked before entering, he waited for the thrashing he would be in for.

“Where are your manners, boy?” Treville barked as he approached the child.

“Eh, right sorry about that, but I’ve a message for you, if you’re Captain Treville, sir.”

“Spit it out, lad!” Treville’s tone was terse due to the circumstances that just occurred between his men.

"Ye ain't gonna hit me none for just running in here like I did?"

The captain's face softened slightly as he gazed upon the wan features of one so very young. "Non! Just tell me what was so urgent that you flew in here to see me."

“Miss Flea sent me here,” the child’s eyes fixed on Porthos’s dark ones. “She has d’Artagnan.”

++++

*Court of Miracles*

“You idiot!” Flea screamed at the large man beside her. God granted Etienne a hulking frame but didn’t deem it necessary to give the man brains to go with it. If there had been someone else handy at the time Flea would have sent them to see Treville. She knew they would be very worried about the young man who at present laid unconscious on a hastily made bed of straw in what stood for her home.

“But I thought you wanted the boy brought here,” Etienne scratched his head, puzzled and upset with her attitude toward him. “Best way I could get one of his ilk to come to the court here was to do this.”

Frustrated, Flea wanted to scream but held back though it was hard. God only knew how upset Porthos would be with her when he discovered what had happened to the youngster. “You were supposed to only deliver d’Artagnan a message!” Flea gave up and finally let fly her rage.

Frowning, Etienne looked down at the ground. “Didn’t remember that part none.”

Not bothering to continue such a fruitless conversation, Flea knelt by d’Artagnan’s side. Noticing his eyelashes beginning to flutter open, she softly called his name. “D’Artagnan, can you hear me? It’s time for you to wake up now.”

Hearing a sweet voice whisper his name, d’Artagnan pried his heavy eyelids open to focus on the face that swam before him. Once he accomplished that task, it became instantly apparent that he was in dire straits as d’Artagnan started struggling to breath. 

Hearing the wheezing sound coming from the young man, Flea’s concern grew. “Breath easy, d’Artagnan, take slow deep breaths.”

“Can’t!” D’Artagnan’s eyes widened in fear as it felt like his throat had swelled shut. “Not... enough... air.” Frantically grabbing at Flea’s hands, d’Artagnan tried to anchor himself and squelch his rising panic.

As Flea tried her best to get through to d'Artagnan and reassure him that he would be well, the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard outside and a roar of voices along with it all calling out but one name... “D’ARTAGNAN!” 

Bursting inside, the three inseparables came to an immediate halt at the sight of their young friend. 

Taking one look at the boy’s face, Aramis realized d’Artagnan was in difficulties. Dropping to his knees by the lad’s side Aramis swiftly tried to evaluate d’Artagnan’s condition. Without looking at the women beside him, he shouted. “What’s happening here?”

“That idiot over there by the wall was only supposed to give d’Artagnan information I had. Instead he drugged him with chloroform.”

“Aramis?” Athos joined his friend by the child’s side. Running his hand through d’Artagnan’s hair. He didn’t know who he was trying to calm down the most, himself or the boy.

“He’s having an extreme reaction to the drug as far as I can tell,” Aramis reached into his medical pouch and rummaged through it for the items he needed. “It’s a good thing I thought to bring my supplies with me.” Seeing that Athos was trying to comfort the lad, Aramis smiled in approval. “Just keep that up while I make quick work of something that will ease his suffering.”

Laying a hand on Aramis’s shoulder, Porthos asked, “Why’s our whelp sounding like that?”

“He probably was given too much of that drug and it’s made his throat close up.”

Leaving Aramis to his work, Porthos did his best to encourage d’Artagnan that he’d survive this. “Hear me, d'Art, you’re gonna be all right with Aramis treatin’ you here,” he said gruffly. In the meantime, Porthos turned around and glared at Flea. “What was so all fired important you needed to tell our pup?”

Having heard the affection in his tone with d'Artagnan, Flea knew Porthos wouldn't be that forgiving with her. “Even in the court we hear things and lately there’s been talk of a particular young man who came to Paris at first to fight the famous Athos for the death of his father,” Flea’s gaze flitted briefly over to where Athos now knelt at the boy’s side. “Then next thing we hear is that d’Artagnan cleared Athos’s good name and is in training to become a Musketeer himself.”

“So, yeah,” Porthos nodded, “that’s all true but what’s that to you?” he bit off. Porthos liked to say a lot more to her than that but not with his brothers within listening distance. Some things were meant to be kept just between himself and Flea.

“The boy’s many kindnesses to the children here have not escaped my notice, Porthos.”

“Huh?”

Laughing, Flea gazed up into his handsome, dark features. “You call yourself his brother and yet you don’t know everything about him do you?”

Hearing this exchange, Athos’s ears perked up. “If by that you are talking about d’Artagnan dropping a coin or two in a runner’s hand or some food here or there, I do know of it,” he admitted, fondly looking down at his protégé. “D’Artagnan has a big heart for one that’s lost so much.”

As promised, Aramis started to administer a mixture that once inhaled would ease the passageways in d’Artagnan’s throat, allowing the boy to breathe more freely. Aramis motioned for Athos to hold the youngster up. Aramis had to wait precious seconds while Athos slid behind d’Artagnan so that the boy’s back rested against the older man’s chest. “D’Artagnan, breath this in,” Aramis ordered gently.

As commanded, d’Artagnan hung his head over the bowl Aramis held in his hands, inhaling the vapors deeply until he could finally breath without choking for air.

Kneeling beside the young man again, Flea apologized. “I’m so sorry, d’Artagnan. My intention was to warn you that the woman named Milady has hired several men from the court to murder you.”

“Well d’Art already met up with one of em’ today,” Porthos growled. “He’s now in the Bastille.”

“Unfortunately there will be more to follow,” Flea frowned upon hearing that news.

Sitting up under his own power, d’Artagnan rubbed at his throat and promptly threw up as a bout of nausea cursed him.

“Why’s he doing that?” Athos questioned as he rubbed up and down d’Artagnan’s back as the boy expelled more of his stomach's contents into a basket that Aramis grabbed for him to use.

“Some people have that reaction to the drug along with quite a few other side effects,” Aramis rubbed at his forehead. “I’ll have to keep an eye on the lad for anything more serious.”

“Like what?” Athos was like a dog with a bone.

“There have been many deaths reported to the use of chloroform,” Aramis really didn’t want to have this conversation with Athos in front of d’Artagnan but his friend wasn’t letting this go. Leaning in, Aramis whispered low. “It can stop the heart as well and that’s why I am so concerned since apparently d'Artagnan was given too large a dose.”

At Aramis’s words, Athos turned pale and clutched d’Artagnan tight in his arms until the boy actually squeaked.

“Hey!” d’Artagnan pouted as he glanced at both men, wondering why they looked the way they did. His stomach finally emptied he wearily propped himself up against Athos once more.

“Sorry, pup,” Athos cuffed d’Artagnan affectionately behind the head.

Shaking his head fondly at Athos, d’Artagnan focused on the woman. “Flea? That’s what you’re called?” After she shook her head in the affirmative, d’Artagnan chewed on his lip in thought. “Do you... know,” he started to wheeze slightly again as he was still getting his breath back especially after having thrown up, “who these... men are that... Milady hired?”

“Non! We have many here in the Court of Miracles that would slit your throat as soon as look at you. Put good coin in their hands and your life’s forfeit for sure,” Flea tapped a slim finger under the youngster’s chin, tilting his face up to meet her own. “As soon as I got wind of it I wanted you to know.”

“I’m grateful,” d’Artagnan nodded. “Perhaps not for the way it was delivered,” he grimaced.

“I suppose if you want something done correctly you should carry it out yourself,” Athos remarked dryly, arching a brow as he gazed at Flea’s amused expression. Then he and Aramis helped their young one back on his feet.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Flea nodded regally at them all before turning to leave.

“I’m really confused,” d’Artagnan admitted shakily, not a position he liked to be in either. “Where am I exactly and what part does she play here?”

“Lad, you just met the queen of the Court of Miracles,” Porthos replied with mirth.

Hearing something else hidden in the depth of Porthos’s words, d’Artagnan eyed the huge man carefully. One day he’d get the story out of him, he promised himself. “Another queen, eh?” d’Artagnan laughed. “Didn’t know Paris had two of them.” His remark made all the men chuckle.

“Whelp, those are questions to be answered another day,” Porthos leaned in close to the boy. “Next time... I won’t be leavin’ you behind.”

++++

Note: Chloroform was made and used starting in the 1800's but for my story I’ve used it here as you can see. Out of the reactions one could have, swelling of the throat is not one but I worked it into my storyline anyway, just because I could (grins.)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally feeling a bit more like myself. After getting hit with the flu for Xmas I'm going to enjoy New Year's Eve more over my cousins for sauerkraut, pork, potatoes and some goodies. Just a quiet get together with a few family members and perhaps a friend of theirs. But that's just the way I like it.
> 
> Here's wishing all of you a Bright New Year and hope it's a better one for all of us!
> 
> ++++

*Athos's apartment*

As soon as he entered his home, Athos threw his leather gloves clear across the room, they fell with a loud thud onto the wooden floor. It had been a hell of a day as far as he was concerned, worrying about d'Artagnan's welfare and then to find him in the Court of Miracles of all the unholy places. Athos had struggled for breath right along with the young Gascon as he watched Aramis encourage the youngster to inhale the concoction he brewed up for the boy. Athos's own heart nearly stopped beating watching d'Artagnan's eyes fill with fear as their young one clutched tightly onto one of his arms that he had wrapped around the child to comfort him.

It had been bad enough finding out that since Anne wasn't able to finish the job herself at La Fere she had hired minions to do her dirty work for her. But now according to Flea this would be just the beginning. D'Artagnan would forever be looking over his shoulder from now on unless they found some way to stop Anne's deadly game.

Hearing the pounding of heavy footsteps approach his door, Athos knew it would be his brothers joining him. But when they finally entered his rooms, Athos frowned at not seeing their youngest with them. "Where's d'Artagnan?" dread filled his belly at the thought the boy had taken a turn for the worst.

"Doctor Devereaux is worse than Aramis here," Porthos grunted as Aramis playfully swatted him with his hat.

"The good doctor wanted to make sure d'Artaganan was quite recovered from the effects of the chloroform." Aramis grabbed a nearby chair and sat down, casually propping his feet up on the opposite chair before Porthos could snag it. He smiled up at the giant and pointed toward another vacant one beside Athos. Chuckling as he heard Porthos snarl, Aramis tipped his hat at him.

“If that’s all it was,” Athos frowned. When he had left d’Artagnan in the care of the garrison doctor, Devereaux assured him that if the boy had made it this far, he doubted he’d need to keep him longer than it would take for a minor exam.

Throwing a wad of paper at Athos’s head, Aramis laughed as his friend glared at him. “Don’t borrow trouble. D’Artagnan has enough of it as it is.”

“You had to remind him of that,” Porthos growled as he settled back in his chair, watching Athos go to a cabinet to retrieve a bottle of wine.

When he returned, Athos set the wine and three glasses down on the table. Pouring generous amounts of the amber liquid until he was satisfied it would quench their thirst, he then sat down. But instead of drinking, Athos just stared down into his full glass.

“Athos,” Aramis glanced at Porthos and nodded his head toward the elder man.

“D’Art’s gonna be okay,” Porthos’s gruff voice tried to get through to the concern he knew Athos felt for their youngest.

“Damn good thing Aramis had his kit with him or we’d be planning d’Artagnan’s funeral!” Athos finally let loose.

“Yeah,” Porthos hung his head knowing Athos had the right of it. “But it wasn’t Flea’s fault what Etienne did.”

“He knows that, Porthos,” Aramis said as he reached for his glass of wine.

A knocking on the door broke the tension in the room for the moment and Athos got up to see who it was, hoping that the doctor released d’Artagnan and it was the boy. Instead, he admitted Captain Treville into his home. “Sir, are we needed?”

“Non,” Treville removed his hat and walked over to the table. “May I join you gentlemen?”

“Of course,” Athos nodded and went to get another chair and wine glass for the man.

“Uh,” Treville looked around the room and frowned, “where’s d’Artagnan?”

“Ha!” Porthos barked out laughing. “Question of the hour.”

“Infirmary, Captain,” Athos supplied while pouring Treville some wine.

“Still?” Treville didn’t expect to hear that.

“Look,” Porthos sighed, “we just got through trying to get Athos not to worry about the whelp,” he pointed a finger at the captain and shook it. “Now don’t you start on it too.”

“If our pup’s not back shortly I’ll personally go check on him,” Aramis offered.

“Did you come to discuss something else with us? Perhaps an upcoming mission.” Athos thought perhaps that would be the best thing that could happen to them at this point. Get them all out of Paris for awhile and away from the vipers, female or male, that lived here.

“The cardinal needs to see d’Artagnan,” Treville drank deeply of the sour tasting wine. “I knew I’d find the lad here with all of you but apparently I was wrong to think that.”

“That's the last thing the youngster needs right now!” Athos spat as his forehead creased in concern.

“Athos,” Treville’s tone demanded attention and he saw his lieutenant’s head snap up to glare back at him, “d’Artagnan’s training to become one of us. He’ll have to get used to nearly getting himself killed and finding his feet again pretty fast if he wants to stay in this business.”

Coughing into his hand, Aramis cleared his throat. He prayed Athos wouldn’t decide to get into a verbal confrontation with Treville over today’s events.

“Hey!” Porthos shouted. “Look who’s back among the living.” Thank God he thought before Athos opened his mouth and inserted his foot where he couldn't reach it.

“Was I missed?” d’Artagnan ducked his head shyly as Porthos greeted him with a bear hug.

“Clean bill of health then, mon ami?” Porthos grinned and ruffled the lad’s hair until it stuck out every which way.

Batting his friend’s hands away, d’Artagnan smiled tiredly. “Oui.” He dragged himself into the room and ended up leaning heavily against Aramis, the latter having gotten up to embrace him as well. “I’m sorry," d'Artagnan yawned, "I'm all for bed.”

Running a hand gently over the youngster’s head, Aramis then led him over to the table. “Athos, our puppy needs his sleep.”

“I only stopped by to let you all know I’m fine,” d’Artagnan made unfocused eye contact with each man in the room but especially with his mentor who appeared about ready to bundle him off somewhere.

“You’re about as fine as this cheap wine I got on sale from Monsieur Slatteur yesterday,” Athos snarled and stood up. “I won’t have you falling flat on your face the moment you leave us.” He grabbed d’Artagnan by the elbow and led him away. “Bunk here in the extra room like you’ve done in the past.”

“My thanks,” d’Artagnan smiled gratefully. In truth he was bone weary and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, pull the covers up and hide away from the world for a little while.

“Before you leave us,” Treville said, “Richelieu wants you to present yourself to him first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I wonder who I have to kill for him this time,” d’Artagnan muttered low. “Thank you, Captain. I’ll report to him and inform you later what he needs of me.”

Seeing the child asleep on his feet, Athos continued steering d’Artagnan towards his goal. Once he got the youngster into the room, Athos watched him undress and leave a trail of clothes on the floor before d’Artagnan finally collapsed on the bed. Bending Athos picked up the scattered bits and pieces to place them neatly in a pile on top of an old oak chest at the foot of the bed. Going over to a chest of drawers, Athos rummaged through it until he came up with a clean nightshirt and threw it over at d’Artagnan. Laughing hard as it hit the lad full on in the face, Athos observed their young one struggle into it.

Waiting until d’Artagnan settled himself underneath the covers, Athos sat on one side of the bed and leaned over to brush the long hair of the boy’s out of his eyes. “Sleep well, child.” He sat there for several minutes just watching the rise and fall of the pup’s chest. “I hope Anne realizes that if she hurts you in any manner she’ll answer directly to me,” Athos whispered before standing back up to leave. But still, he remained rooted to the spot. “If I could I’d protect you from everything evil that’s waiting out there for you, d’Artagnan.” Not realizing that the lad wasn’t fully asleep yet, Athos was surprised when the youngster spoke up.

“Do you not feel the skills that you’ve all been teaching me not sufficient enough to keep me alive out in the streets of Paris or beyond?” d’Artagnan blinked drowsily up at his friend.

“It’s not that,” Athos responded softly, smiling wryly that the boy had overheard him. “I don’t want Anne to be responsible for taking another little brother from me,” he held out his hand. “Even though I know you can well take care of yourself,” his lips quirked, "for the most part."

Sleepy though he was, d’Artagnan reached out a hand to take Athos’s. “Trust in me that I will always return to you,” he grinned crookedly. “I can not guarantee that I will return injury free but isn’t that why God made older brothers?”

“I don’t understand,” Athos felt bemused at the child’s question. Not sure where d’Artagnan was going with this.

Closing his eyes, d’Artagnan snuggled into his pillow. “To sooth away all our hurts, whether physical or emotional.” Yawning, he finally let Morpheus take him away.

++++

As Athos left the boy with those final words ringing in his ears, he grinned to himself. The lad had his own philosophy on life it would seem. Perhaps there was still something this old war horse could learn from the pup. Walking back into the main room, Athos faced a set of concerned faces.

“He asleep yet?” Porthos observed Athos’s slow approach toward them with a frown. “Well?”

“Oui,” Athos sat back down. “We exchanged a few words before d’Artagnan’s exhaustion caught up to him.”

“Why is d’Artagnan so weary?” Placing his hat back on, Treville stood up to leave. 

“Doctor Devereaux gave him a draught for the pain which does make one quite tired,” Aramis explained.

“Ah,” Treville nodded, “understandable.” He glanced back at his lieutenant until he caught Athos's eye. “Make sure d’Artagnan doesn’t miss his appointment with the cardinal tomorrow.”

Arching a brow and exchanging amused looks with his brothers-in-arms, Athos nodded at his captain. “How could I possibly forget something of that nature,” he remarked drolly.

“Mmmmm,” Treville chuckled, shaking his head as he walked away.

After sitting back down, Athos noted Aramis was staring at him oddly. He saw curiosity in those dark, brown eyes of his. “What?” he huffed.

“May I know what our youngest said to you that put that expression on your face when you came out of the room?”

“D’Artagnan was reminding me why God made older brothers,” Athos smirked as he reached for the nearly empty wine bottle.

Knowing Athos wasn’t going to elaborate further, Aramis figured he’d get the story out of d’Artagnan later. So instead he raised his wine glass and grinned. “I propose a toast.”

“To what?” Porthos raised his glass anyway as did Athos.

“They say a cat has nine lives,” Aramis laughed. “By my reckoning our pup’s used up three so far.” He then proceeded to tick them off one by one on his fingers. “La Fere... helping Constance... and at the court.” Aramis could still see the questioning gaze of his friends settle on him. “Mon ami’s” he stood up with a flourish, “to d’Artagnan’s six remaining lives!”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year once more!
> 
> ++++

*Cardinal Richelieu’s office*

As ordered, d’Artagnan was looking sharp this morning as he stood in front of his Eminence. “I was told you needed to see me.”

Observing the youth before him, Richelieu smiled slightly. “Most people summoned before me usually quake in their boots or dainty slippers,” he remarked dryly. “But not you,” he got up from behind his desk to walk around, joining d’Artagnan. “I do believe I made a wise choice with you.”

There was a look on the cardinal’s face d’Artagnan as yet couldn’t decipher. “May I ask your thoughts?”

Momentarily taken aback by the question, Richelieu glared at the boy but figured it wouldn't hurt to share his feelings this once. “Oh, I was just thinking of Treville's reaction once you become Captain of my Red Guards in time,” he grinned, “and so much younger than Treville was when he earned his honors.”

Amazed to hear those words from the cardinal’s lips, d’Artagnan was speechless. He wondered if perhaps Richelieu had overdosed on medication for some ailment.

Seeing the disbelief clearly written on the young Gascon’s face, Richelieu clucked and waved his hand at the boy. “Yes, after suffering through all those tedious campaigns, for Treville to see you rise in my ranks instead of his *glorious* Musketeer regiment," his voice filled with disdain as he commented upon this to d’Artagnan, "fills my heart with gladness."

Wanting to move along to the meat of the matter, d’Artagnan shot Richelieu a cocky grin. “Do not put all your eggs in one basket, your Eminence,” he pointed out cooly. “It may meet a nasty end and they’ll all shatter,” like your dreams of power and glory d’Artagnan thought to himself.

“A warning... from you, d’Artagnan?” Richelieu gazed shrewdly at the young man, weighing him up.

“Let us say just a friendly piece of advice to keep your enemies close.”

Laughing, Richelieu slapped the young Gascon lightly on the back. “I do like you, d’Artagnan! I might even go so far as to say you remind me of myself as a younger man full of ambitions.”

Not too happy to being compared to the cardinal, d’Artagnan held back a retort that dearly needed to be said. “Not much has changed in that respect,” he remarked wryly, “you’ve just added more grey to your head.”

“Mmmm, yes, er well, I digress,” Richelieum went to sit back down. “Now to the business for which I required your attendance.”

“Yes, please do,” d’Artagnan appeared bored which earned him a cocked eyebrow from the cardinal.

“Eh bien, there’s an establishment in Paris known as The White Palace,” Richelieu glanced at d’Artagnan to see if the name had registered with him. Impatiently he asked, “Have you ever heard of it before?”

“Non,” d’Artagnan shook his head. ‘You must remember I’m new to Paris and its local haunts.”

“Quite,” Richelieu snapped, rubbing his forehead as he snatched a piece of paper from his desk and jotted the directions down. Handing it over to d’Artagnan, he sat back in his chair. “You will leave shortly to go there to meet up with Comte Dandre Amirault. He and I are old acquaintances and silent partners in The White Palace.”

“May I know the nature of this business venture you’re *secretly* in?” d’Artagnan emphasized the word *secretly* with a smirk.

“Don’t get uppity with me, you impudent puppy!” Richelieu hissed. “On a whim I could turn you over to Treville for conspiracy against the crown.”

“And with a snap of my fingers I can turn you in just as well,” d’Artagnan reminded his Eminence.

“Tit for tat, eh?” Richelieu chuckled. “Whose word would they believe do you think?” he shrugged. “Certainly not that of a lowly, would-be Musketeer.”

“You’d be unpleasantly surprised what influence I’ve garnered since my arrival back in Paris.”

Backing down somewhat, Richelieu grunted. Knowing Treville knew this upstarts father from their days together in Gascony, not to mention Treville had known d’Artagnan when he was just a little garcon as well. It would behoove him to remember that pointing fingers at others could very well be turned back on himself.

“We seem to have gotten off track again, d’Artagnan,” Richelieu huffed. “When you meet up with the Comte, you are to guard his person. If anything untoward were to happen to him I would not have a partner any longer for our business venture together.”

“There are always other ways and means,” d’Artagnan offered lightly. It didn’t matter a whit to him if the cardinal lost the cape off his back, less alone this White Palace. Though it would be fun to make Richelieu lose some illegal income. He would have to see what could be done about that later.

“Let us say I put myself at considerable risk on this particular deal,” Richelieu knew this had been dragged out long enough and answered d’Artagnan’s earlier question. “The White Palace is a gaming house and on the side, for well heeled patrons, it offers delights to fill the most jaded appetites.”

D’Artagnan, for all his brash nature, still held a few fragments of innocence left, considering how he had lost his father, he was what he was... a farm boy from Gascony. “In other words, women ply their trade in prostitution there.”

Sighing, Richelieu realized he’d have to spell it out. “It’s a house of ill repute, that is correct but it is for both women and men.”

Eyebrows shooting to near his hairline, d’Artagnan felt his tender years on him as his face filled with heat. He had not even thought of that possibility. Alexandre d’Artagnan really had sheltered him as he grew up. For if there were such places in Gascony, he had never heard of them. Women being with men was one thing but men with men, it made him shudder.

“Just make sure Comte Amirault behaves himself,” Richelieu sighed again, wondering if he was making a mistake in sending d’Artagnan into such a place. It was quite evident to his eyes that the boy had no idea things of that nature existed. He had to grow up sometime and this was just as good a time as any to his way of thinking.

“As you wish, your Eminence,” d’Artagnan bowed, backing away before turning around to leave the cardinal’s company. He could feel the man’s eyes boring through his back even as he closed the doors behind him.

++++

*Captain Treville’s office*

After explaining what Cardinal Richelieu needed him for, an all mighty din was created by the inseparables. It was hard to tell who was yelling the loudest them or Treville. Leaning against the wall, d’Artagnan listened and watched the spectacle before him.

“No way in hell is d’Art goin’ in that place!” Porthos growled, thumping his fist hard on Treville’s desk.

“Easy there, Porthos,” Treville said, “no need to dent my desk.”

“Er, sorry, Captain,” Porthos apologized while catching Athos’s eye.

“I agree with Porthos here,” Aramis spoke up loudly. “D’Artagnan should not be in such a place.”

“Pot meet kettle,” d’Artagnan muttered to himself but he thought Athos had heard him, if that glint in those sharp blue eyes that stabbed him was anything to go by.

“D’Artagnan doesn’t have enough experience yet to deal with what he’ll see and hear in The White Palace and you know that,” Athos remarked to his captain.

“Be that as it may, gents,” Treville rubbed his chin, “d’Artagnan has to do as ordered by Cardinal Richelieu otherwise we may as well give up this whole charade.”

“I don’t like it,” Porthos snapped and glanced at the boy. “D’Art, there are some things in Paris that you need to be introduced to slowly.”

“Yes, mon ami,” Aramis agreed while seeing d’Artagnan frowning at all of them. “Do not be angered with us. We only are looking out for your welfare.”

“How about looking elsewhere then,” d’Artagnan snapped, not really meaning to be upset with his friends but he was filled with frustration at how they were all acting. “I’m not just out of my diapers you know.”

“Care to argue that point,” Athos glared at his protégé, arching a regal brow making it known how young he felt the child truly was at times.

“One of you will be following me, right?” d’Artagnan huffed. “Well, I doubt Comte Amirault would know any of you, so pick a straw and the loser goes inside with me,” he eyed each of his friends pointedly, “inconspicuously as possible.”

“There’s no need to draw straws,” Athos’s aristocratic voice broke the sudden silence that filled the room after d’Artagnan’s suggestion. “I’m the one with the background to pull it off,” he glanced briefly at Treville, the latter nodding his head in agreement. “How soon do you have to be there, d’Artagnan?”

“According to the cardinal, I’m to be there within the hour.”

“Fine then,” Athos walked over to their youngest and clapped him on the arm in a show of comradery. “That will give me enough time to fit the part and join you.”

“This should be interestin’,” Porthos whispered over to Aramis.

“Too bad neither one of us will be able to see what’s going on in there,” Aramis pouted, feeling slightly left out of this adventure.

“It’s going to be boring,” d’Artagnan said, having heard Aramis sounding like a petulant child who couldn’t have a piece of candy. “I’m going to have to stand around babysitting this Comte,” he rolled his eyes. “How much trouble can one man get into?” Four heads instantly turned d’Artagnan’s way and stared back at him wryly. Holding out his hands, d’Artagnan frowned fiercely. “At none of those times was it ever my fault!”

Snickering, Athos took the lad by the arm and pulled him out the door.

Watching the two men leave, Aramis had a gut feeling this wasn't going to be as easy as d'Artagnan figured. Glancing over at Porthos, he could tell his friend felt the same way.


	21. Chapter 21

*The White Palace*

“Ah! Bonjour!”

Standing in front of The White Palace, d’Artagnan twirled around as someone greeted him and stepped forward. The man was quite handsome, built well for his age and could have given Aramis a run for his money with the ladies. A neatly trimmed beard and mustache set off his silver hair to perfection. The clothes the man wore also told of his personal wealth. D’Artagnan surmised that this was the gentleman with whom he was to meet... Comte Dandre Amirault.

Bowing slightly, d’Artagnan observed the devilish twinkle in the man’s grey eyes. “Comte Amirault, I presume?”

“Oui,” Amirault laughed jovially. “My, Armand does employ them younger nowadays,” he remarked as he took in the lean form of the youngster. Holding out his hand Amirault took the boy’s in a firm grip. He could judge that this youth would make a formidable opponent and made a mental note to try not to offend this boy's sensibilities if he could avoid it but it would be hard. “You are d’Artagnan, of course,” Amirault stepped back and nearly undressed the boy with his eyes, telling himself to stop doing so but he never did listen to himself very well. “Armand described you perfectly.”

Slightly uncomfortable at those words and with the way the comte had looked at him, d’Artagnan smiled stiffly. “Comte, I believe the game awaits you inside.”

“To the point,” Amirault said, “I like that in a man and *a few other things as well*,” he added the latter sotto voice which earned him a scowl from d'Artagnan. He had to try, though Amirault kept telling himself to behave. But the boy was such a delight to the eyes he kept losing sight of anything else. Amirault sighed in disappointment, having his hopes dashed that Armand would have sent him someone whose company he could enjoy. Risking a sideways look at d’Artagnan, Amirault knew that if he were to have company in his bed this night, it wouldn’t be with this youngster. 

“Sir, if you please,” d’Artagnan waved toward the doors of the establishment. As he waited for Comte Amirault to step through, he glanced backwards hoping to see signs of Athos. Presumably his friend would get here shortly. Gritting his teeth, d'Artagnan prayed for an uneventful evening.

++++

Once inside, d’Artagnan still kept glancing at the closed doors wondering when Athos would make his appearance. In the meantime Comte Amirault was just getting ready to play a hand of cards as d’Artagnan stood beside him. “Bonne chance, Comte.”

“Why merci, d’Artagnan,” Amirault was pleased that this young Gascon thought to wish him luck though he was smug enough to admit he didn’t feel the need for it. He was quite the expert card shark, even if he did say so himself.

This is really boring, d’Artagnan thought as he scanned the crowds of men and women scattered throughout what rooms he could see from his position. They seemed to be all over the place, hanging from the balconies, up the staircases, just everywhere as far as he could tell. When he thought back to his farm in Lupiac and the smaller villages surrounding it, nothing could really ever compare to it. Certainly not this place where pleasures of the flesh were bartered for an exchange of coin. His parents would turn over in their graves if they knew where he found himself now. Even though it was in the line of duty.

It had been nearly thirty minutes later when Athos finally arrived looking every inch the Comte de la Fere as he strode through the doors. D’Artagnan expected no less than the finery his friend wore. Blue silk shirt covered by an even darker blue doubtlet with matching breeches tucked into thigh high leather boots. Athos’s hat completed the outfit and as usual hid the man’s blue eyes. The lace at Athos’s neck peeked out from underneath his doublet and at his sleeves, reminding d’Artagnan of one of those dandies Porthos always joked about. He had to remember later to tease Athos about how well he polished his boots. They shone so brightly they nearly blinded d’Artagnan.

Catching his friend’s eye, d’Artagnan carefully nodded in recognition and received an answering nod from Athos in return. Then d’Artagnan focused his attention back on Amirault once more and nearly jumped out of his skin when he suddenly felt a hand groping for his derriere. Glancing down he followed the arm the hand was attached too and found it belonged to none other than the comte himself. Trying not to call undue attention to himself, d’Artagnan gripped the offensive hand tightly and pushed it away. Bending down he hissed in Amirault’s ear. “Do that again and I’ll cut it off.”

The smirk Amirault had worn dropped swiftly at the boy’s threat while he studied the cards he had been dealt. "I wanted to test a theory of mine,” he sighed. “Guess you’re not a player at all, d’Artagnan.”

“Oui, that is correct,” d’Artagnan retorted. “I am here only in the capacity of your guard... and only that."

“Pity,” was the droll response as Amirault laid out a perfect flush, much to the groans of dismay from the men who had just lost a goodly amount of money to him.

As for Athos, he didn’t know how he restrained himself when he noticed what Comte Amirault had just done to the pup. Currently he was walking around the room taking stock of everyone and everything around him, finally coming to a halt in front of the buvette where he ordered himself a glass of Anjou. Taking a small sip, his sharp gaze never left where d’Artagnan was stationed.

For his part, d’Artagnan already wished this day over with. He had both men and women whispering shocking things in his ears as they passed by him. Blushing, d’Artagnan tried to concentrate on doing his duty, but when a third man had propositioned him, d’Artagnan had had enough and reached to draw out his sword from its sheath. When he jabbed it at the stranger’s chest, he snarled. “Does it seem to you as if I’m interested?”

“Apologies, Monsieur,” the man immediately scampered away as quickly as his feet would take him.

“I say, you weren’t very nice to him, d’Artagnan,” Amirault chuckled as he gathered up his winnings before leaving the table.

Not wasting his breath, d’Artagnan just followed in the comte’s wake. “Perhaps you should give your money into the safekeeping of the manager here until you leave.”

“I like the feel of money jingling in my pockets,” Amirault remarked carelessly.

“Would you enjoy deft fingers removing your money from your pockets as well?” d’Artagnan whispered.

“You’re a cocky so an so,” Amirault stopped abruptly, turned around and grabbed d’Artagnan by the chin to kiss him soundly on the mouth, startling the boy and eliciting a chuckle from Amirault.

On the verge of strangling Comte Amirault, Athos was about to play the hero when he watched d’Artagnan shove the man away while wiping his mouth with his sleeve. The youngster appeared sickened by what had just happened, paling considerably from the comte’s assault.

“Do that again, Comte,” d’Artagnan spat in disgust, “and I may forget what my duties entail and dismember you myself!”

“Ooooh!” Amirault laughed. “Something to look forward too. I can’t wait!” he winked at the young man. “And here I thought I was in for a boring evening.”

“You’re crazy,” d’Artagnan mumbled, sending Athos a resigned look.

“Ah! But I’m crazy about you, mon amour.”

Ignoring him, d’Artagnan pushed forward through the crowd as he and the comte made their way into another room. Brushing past Athos as he did so, d’Artagnan felt his friend snag him by the arm as he and Athos locked worried gazes. The steadfast, silent message of support from Athos was received and with a quick nod, d’Artagnan continued on.

The actions of the other patrons hadn’t escaped d’Artagnan’s notice either as they entered a different area. Women were kissing women over in one corner while men were doing much the same thing with each other over in another darkened section. It seemed that everywhere they walked d’Artagnan felt hands trying to touch him. Feeling quite out of his depth and batting the unwelcome hands away, he lagged behind and lost sight of the comte. Panic filled him until he heard the fight that broke out. Then his own words came back to haunt him, when he was reminded of what he had said back in Treville's office about how much trouble could one man get into. Apparently quite a lot were his thoughts as he sprinted off.

Running into another room, d’Artagnan found Amirault locked in a struggle over a poignard. Jumping right into the fray, d’Artagnan knocked the poignard out of the attacker’s hand. “I demand to know what is going on!” he shouted above all the commotion around him.

“This man’s a cheater!” Heaving from the exertion of the short exchange with the comte, Henri directed his outrage toward the young man.

Before d’Artagnan could question him further, Comte Amirault broke in.

“I assure you, my good sir, I do not need to cheat to win,” Amirault commented dryly. “You are just a poor loser.”

Now one of the men, who unfortunately just lost to Amirault in the previous card game, walked over and pulled a sword on the comte, much to d’Artagnan’s dismay.

Bringing his own sword down with a loud clang on top of the antagonist’s, d’Artagnan braced himself for the coming duel. He was pleasantly surprised when the other man backed away. Apparently he didn’t relish fighting him. Glancing over to where Athos stood, d’Artagnan winced as he could see his mentor covering his eyes and shaking his head.

Approaching Amirault, d’Artagnan took the man by the arm. “Is this what the rest of the night is going to be like?” he shouted.

“Oh, I do hope so,” Amirault winked again at d’Artagnan and then went over to another gaming table where a crowed was gathered.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, d’Artagnan was about to shake it off when he smelled the leathery scent that spoke of Athos. Slumping slightly, all he wanted to do was lean against his friend for moral support but he did not. “Remember earlier when I mentioned to Captain Treville and you three about making Richelieu lose out on this place?”

“I remember,” Athos spoke softly, not wanting to be overheard.

“How good are you at cards?” d’Artagnan asked in a hushed tone.

“I've a fair hand at it,” Athos admitted. “Not on par with Porthos of course.”

Frowning, d’Artagnan bit his lip. “It would be better for Porthos to be here but that cannot be.”

“Oh decidedly not,” Athos agreed with a smirk. Knowing that his large friend would stand out like a sore thumb among all these nobles.

“How good are you at cheating?” d’Artagnan’s eyes began to dance in amusement as he warmed to his subject.

Lips twisting into a semblance of a smile, Athos stared at his protégé. “What are you proposing?”

“That Amirault really does get caught cheating and then thrown into the Bastille, ruining Richelieu’s partnership and thus his loss in The White Palace.”

“Devious, d’Artagnan,” Athos’s blue eyes twinkled. “I approve.” Nodding his head toward where the comte was now sitting, Athos clapped a hand on the boy’s arm. “Wish me luck.”

“Bonne chance, Athos,” d’Artagnan said softly as he observed his friend join Comte Amirault at another card table. The sooner he could get out of this place the better, for his own peace of mind.


	22. Chapter 22

*The White Palace*

As Athos gets comfortable at the gaming table, he tries to watch Amirault’s busy hands as the man shuffles and deals out the cards. They play for what seems like an hour but really was only half of that before someone other than Athos jumps up and calls out Amirault as a cheat.

“You’ve got another card up your sleeve, canaille!” the man claimed, drawing out a sharp poignard and waving it dangerously at Amirault.

“Non,” Amirault grinned, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, “you’re imagining things, mon ami.”

“I am not your friend,” the accuser spat out harshly. 

Not expecting this development, d’Artagnan inwardly snickered. This was working out better than he had planned. Athos wouldn’t have to do a thing. While he was listening, another man stood and accused Amirault as well.

“Ah!” the other accuser exclaimed. “You are nothing but a well dressed cut-purse!”

During all the bickering, d’Artagnan used his own bit of sleight of hand to seal Amirault’s fate, compliments of Porthos’s careful tutelage on one of their many nights out on the town. Since no one was paying attention to him, d’Artagnan carefully withdrew a few cards he had hidden within his doublet. Leaning over slightly, he managed to slip them inside the shirt sleeve of Amirault’s right arm. The man wore a billowy shirt with loose fitting cuffs, easily big enough to slip a card or two inside. Catching Athos’s attention, d’Artagnan nodded and saw an answering gleam in his mentor’s eyes.

So when Amirault stood up to defend himself again, low and behold the cards slipped gracefully out of his sleeve onto the gaming table where every man there looked back at him in accusation. “Those do not belong to me,” he held out his hands in supplication. But Amirault could tell that the men he had been playing with were not amused in hearing what they thought were false words.

From that point on it was downhill for the comte as the manager of The White Palace came over to find out what had happened. Frowning, he signaled his men to hold Amirault until the proper authorities arrived.

“Uh, d’Artagnan,” Amirault twisted around to talk to the boy, “it would seem I’ll be otherwise engaged for the time being.” Trying to tug his arms free from the men that held him without success, he sighed dramatically. “Please inform Cardinal Richelieu what has transpired here.”

“Of course,” d’Artagnan grimaced, pretending to be upset for what was happening to the man. “I wish I could do more, but it looks like your hand has been well and truly caught in the cookie jar, so to speak.”

A smile played around Amirault’s lips. “An amusing way to look at it.” Stabbing the youngster with a wry look, he snorted. “But I have never resorted to cheating at cards. I don’t have too,” he boasted. “Sadly, my amour-propre is badly damaged for the moment. But I will rally forward.”

“You’re going to have a hard time talking yourself out of this since the evidence fell out of your own sleeves,” d’Artagnan’s brow arched.

“I would be interested to know how they got there,” Amirault comment dryly with an odd look at the youngster. “Ah, it looks like the gendarmes have arrived to take me away,” he nonchalantly announced with a smirk.

“You’re taking this rather well,” d’Artagnan said, folding his arms as he observed the gendarmes securing the comte’s hands behind him.

“Oui,” Amirault shrugged. “I’ll go through the motions and later I’m sure Armand will get me out of this predicament I now find myself in.”

With a nod, d’Artagnan watched the gendarmes take the comte away. When Athos joined his side, d’Artagnan turned his head toward his mentor and winked. “Did you catch what the Comte just told me?”

“Oui,” Athos chuckled. “I think this time he may find that Richelieu won’t be able to help him.”

“Thus ending a long-term partnership in this establishment,” d’Artagnan’s eyes lit up with mischief. Placing a hand upon his heart, he laughed. “I feel terribly about Richelieu’s coming loss when I tell him the news.”

Feeling the weight of Athos’s hand upon his shoulder, d’Artagnan gazed into the slightly worried blues eyes of his mentor and friend. “What?”

“Just make sure Richelieu doesn’t blame you for not getting Comte Amirault out of this mess.”

“How could he,” d’Artagnan grinned. “Amirault was caught red handed.”

Slapping the boy on the back, Athos guided his protégé’ out of the gaming house.

++++

*Cardinal Richelieu’s office*

Standing up, a fierce scowl set on his features, Richelieu stabbed the young man before him with outraged ire. “By all that’s holy!” Richelieu yelled, “how did this come about?”

Explaining the circumstances behind Comte Amirault’s arrest, d’Artagnan watched the cardinal pace back and forth. “You couldn’t prevent his arrest!”

“I didn’t know the man was going to cheat, now did I?” D’Artagnan couldn’t help himself but snapped back at the man.

Throwing his head up, Richelieu stared hard at the boy. “You dare raise your voice like that to me?”

“I dare because you’re accusing me of something that was beyond my control,” d’Artagnan glared back. “If you would have warned me about the Comte’s tendencies in that direction I may have been able to nip this whole situation in the bud.”

“Oui, oui,” Richelieu nodded his head. “Apologies, d’Artagnan,” he sat back down behind his desk. Leaning forward he placed his elbows on the desk, steepled his hands together and placed his forehead on them as if in prayer.

“Cardinal?” d’Artagnan cleared his throat. “Am I dismissed?”

Waving the young man away, Richelieu kept his eyes closed as d’Artagnan removed himself from the office.

++++

*Garrison courtyard*

“Ma foi?” Athos asked. He had been waiting impatiently, along with Porthos and Aramis, in the courtyard for the boy to return. 

“As you can see I haven’t been thrown in the Bastille along with the Comte,” d’Artagnan laughed as his friends all embraced him.

“A better outcome none of us could have foreseen, eh?” Aramis winked at the child.

“You’re gettin’ good at this stuff, d’Art,” Porthos ruffled the lad's hair.

“What say you we all go out to dinner to celebrate another victory for our pup?” Aramis suggested.

“Fine with me,” d’Artagnan was just about to ask his friends where they’d like to go when Rene joined them.

“D’Artagnan, your presence has been requested by Queen Anne at the palace.” Rene smiled at the inseparables, for he had nothing but admiration for the men.

“Now?” d’Artagnan wondered what her Majesty needed him for.

“Oui,” Rene could tell the younger man was worrying and probably for nothing. “She probably just needs you to run an errand for her, lad.”

“My thanks, Rene,” d’Artagnan clapped the man on the arm then turned to his friends. “I do not know how long I’ll be, but when I get back we can go out to eat.” 

Three heads nodded back at him and watched with avid curiosity in their eyes as d’Artagnan headed toward the Royal Palace.

++++

*The Royal Palace*

In the great hall, d’Artagnan stared out of a huge window to enjoy the beautiful grounds outside while he waited for Queen Anne’s arrival. Feeling something curling around his leg, he peered down into the green eyes of Masselin. Bending, d’Artagnan picked the kitten up in his arms as it purred a greeting to him. “I’ve missed you, mon petite ami.”

“D’Artagnan,” came the soft voice from behind.

Turning around, d’Artagnan gazed at her Majesty and bowed before her, still holding onto the kitten. “Queen Anne, I was told you needed to meet with me.”

Hooking her arm into his, the queen led d’Artagnan over to a loveseat near one of the windows. “I need a friend to talk too.”

“I’m honored that you’d consider me so,” d’Artagnan began to blush as he could feel his skin heat up.

“If you recall I told you that is what I wanted us to become,” Queen Anne reminded the boy with a sad smile.

“Oui,” d’Artagnan knew the queen hid something painful behind her expression. “Consider me a friend then and tell me what’s troubling you so.”

“Ah!” Queen Anne chuckled. “If it were only that simple.”

“Why can it not be?” D’Artagnan continued playing with Masselin’s fur as he focused his attention on the queen.

“Louis and I,” she bit her lip, “there’s no common ground.”

Not quite sure what she was referring too, d’Artagnan carefully worded his question. “What type of *common ground* are you speaking of, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

“Everything and anything!” Queen Anne exclaimed, jumping out of the loveseat to face d’Artagnan. “I do not care for hunting, whereas Louis loves it. He loves people dancing attendance on him and I love solitude,” she sighed. “It’s a hopeless situation,” Queen Anne whirled around, turning her back on the young man for a moment. “And if that weren’t enough, I can not seem to get pregnant.”

A pin could have been heard to drop in the massive great hall, so shocked was d’Artagnan at her Majesty’s words. This really was out of his realm of experience and he did not know the proper way to address the topic the Queen had so indelicately brought up. If being her friend meant this type of shared intimacy, d’Artagnan was truly out of his depth to deal with it.

“I can see by your face that I’ve taken you by complete surprise,” Queen Anne remarked solemnly as she faced the boy again.

“You could say that,” d’Artagnan drawled out slowly. Masselin lay curled up on his lap sleeping, blissfully unaware of the disturbing undercurrents now flowing between himself and the queen.

“Having no experience yourself of the state of wedlock I realize you have no words of wisdom for me, but I had to talk to someone other than those simpering ladies-in-waiting that surround me,” Queen Anne grimaced. “All they do all day is follow me around, gossip behind my back and twitter about like butterflies. It drives me crazy!”

Seeing that she was being so frank with him, d’Artagnan chuckled. “Why don’t you surround yourself with someone who won’t gossip and twitter about like a butterfly?” he suggested with a quirk of his lips. “Ummmm, they'd still have to follow you about though because that is part of the job.”

Finally seeing a ray of hope, Queen Anne smiled brilliantly at the boy. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“I’d have to ask her first,” d’Artagnan frowned as he just thought of something.

“What? What is it?” Queen Anne didn’t want her hopes dashed now that d’Artagnan had given her something to look forward too.

“She does have other responsibilities to deal with,” he explained, wincing as he thought of Constance’s husband. “Along with having a husband.”

“If you feel your friend is suitable for the position I can work around her schedule if need be.” Queen Anne twisted her hands in anxiety until she felt the boy’s hands come to rest on top of her own.

“Be at peace, your Majesty,” d’Artagnan’s brown eyes were kind as he tried to convey his friendship to her. Placing Masselin back into the protection of the Queen’s arms, he stepped back and bowed. “I will see if she would be willing to take up a position with you.”

Stepping close to d’Artagnan, Queen Anne placed a gentle kiss on the youngster’s brow. “God’s grace go with you along with my thanks for being my friend.”

Bowing once more, d’Artagnan left the queen alone with her thoughts and Masselin.


	23. Chapter 23

Getting no further than one foot out the door, d’Artagnan was detained once more by Queen Anne.

“D’Artagnan, Louis and I were thinking on having a light picnic lunch on the grounds of the palace and were wondering if you’d like to join us,” she looked at the boy with hope in her eyes that he would come along. “That was the true reason for requesting your presence in the first place,” she blushed, “until I went off on a tangent in a totally different direction.”

“I believe, my lady,” d’Artagnan smiled, “you are allowed one or two tangents every now and then.”

“You are good for me,” Queen Anne chuckled. “We will lunch tomorrow at noon.” Watching the young man nod in agreement and then bowing once more before leaving, she had one more thing to add. “Oh, and d’Artagnan,” Queen Anne watched as d’Artagnan listened attentively, “Louis and I have discussed this between us and whenever you are in our company we would prefer you to drop the honorifics if you will.”

Not expecting this and feeling not worthy, d’Artagnan bowed, his head nearly touching the floor until he heard the queen clear her throat and he glanced upwards.

“You’re going to hurt yourself that way,” she laughed gayly. “Louis and I feel closer to you than any of our other Musketeers.” Queen Anne gazed at the youngster fondly. “Perhaps it could be that we are not that far apart age-wise.”

“To tell you t he truth, your Maj...,” he cut himself off abruptly as he noticed her finger raised in the air, waggling back and forth at him, “Anne, I never really gave it much thought.”

“Oui, when one is elevated to a Queen or a King, one tends to think we are dottering old fools,” she huffed. “Needless to say, Louis and I are not and feel like you are a younger brother to both of us.”

“Then I will see you both tomorrow at noon,” d’Artagnan grinned. “My thanks.”

++++

*Bonacieux home*

“Mmmmm, Constance?”

“What is it now, d’Artagnan?” Constance was getting dinner ready for the two of them as her husband was away again on an extensive buying trip. “You’re not going to admit to doing something idiotic again are you?”

“Why do you always think the worst of me?” d’Artagnan grumbled as he went to snatch a warm baguette hot out of the oven. Feeling his hand slapped, he immediately withdrew it. “Ouch!” d’Artagnan glared at her. “Now I understand what Aramis meant about your slaps being lethal.”

“He would know!” she snapped. “Now what did you want to ask me?” Constance wiped her hands on her apron while wondering what d’Artagnan had on his mind. She worried about him but tried not to let it show.

“How would you like to have a higher income and perhaps a way to get out of the house once in awhile, aside from the errands you run for your husband?”

Sitting down, Constance frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re always telling me Bonacieux needs the money." Saying the man's name always left a sour taste in d’Artagnan's mouth, never having liked Bonacieux overmuch after he had met the man. “Queen Anne and I have been talking...”

“About me?” Constance squeaked.

“She needs someone that can be trusted around her,” d’Artagnan tried to reach out for that baguette again but kept one eye on Constance’s hands while he was at it, then decided he wasn’t brave enough to risk it and let it go. “The queen can’t stand her ladies-in-waiting,” d’Artagnan grinned, his brown eyes dancing. “So I told her I knew someone but that I had to ask her first.”

“And just like that I’d have the job?” Constance was skeptical at the offer.

“I’m sure their Majesties will have done a background check on you, but it should be just a formality where you are concerned," d’Artagnan said lightly, knowing that Constance didn’t have any dirty laundry in her closet that would be a blight on her character.

“But wouldn’t a position such as that require me to stay in the palace?” Constance looked around her kitchen. “I couldn’t possibly accept it under those circumstances. My husband needs me to help him.”

“He’s hardly ever here,” d’Artagnan snorted and this time he did reach for the baguette, consequences be damned he thought! When Constance didn’t reach out to slap his hand, he bit into it and relished its taste. “Besides,” he leaned back in his chair, “Queen Anne said she would work around your schedule if needs must.”

“Well, I never,” Constance was flustered and grateful that d’Artagnan thought enough to mention her to the queen. “If she finds me suitable then I don’t care what Bonacieux says,” Constance grinned impishly, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “I’ll take the job.”

“That’s the woman I’ve come to know and ...,” d’Artagnan cut himself off just in time. He actually didn’t know what he was going to say to her at that point. Love? Did he truly love her? It was too soon for him to even think of such things. Plus she was a married woman and he wasn’t even a Musketeer yet. What was he thinking?

Wondering what the young man was going to say, Constance was disappointed when d’Artagnan didn’t finish his thought.

“I am picnicking with their Majesties tomorrow and will let Queen Anne know your response.”

“Getting thick as thieves with them now are you?” Constance grinned back at him. 

“Well, you know how it is? Protecting the king during his hunt, having dinner with both of them later,” d’Artagnan ducked his head. “We’re becoming friends.”

Walking over to him, Constance kissed his cheek and then patted it with a hand covered in flour. She burst out laughing at the white mark she left on d'Artagnan's face and so did he. “You’re a very thoughtful young man.”

D’Artagnan just winked at her and snatched another baguette.

++++

*Next day, Royal Palace Grounds*

“Isn’t this fun!” Louis laughed while laying on the picnic blanket beside his lovely wife and Masselin, of course. The kitten had become friendlier with him ever since that dinner with d’Artagnan. “How is the salmon, d’Artagnan?”

Never having tasted this type of fish before, d’Artagnan just nodded, his mouth full of salmon. When he washed it down with a glass of wine, he glanced over at Anne and caught her attention. “That matter you and I discussed yesterday,” d’Artagnan waited for her nod of acknowledgment, “Constance would be delighted, that is if you decide to hire her.”

Clapping her hands, Anne smiled. “Excellent! I will look into this more on the morrow then.”

Hearing the exchange, Louis frowned. “Anything I should know about, mon cher?”

“I’m thinking of taking on someone as a personal assistant,” Anne explained, “and d’Artagnan knows someone of good breeding he recommended.”

“We will of course have to look into their background,” Louis remarked seriously. These matters were never taken lightly.

“Of course,” d’Artagnan agreed. “But I assure you, Louis, you’ll find Constance Bonacieux as impeccable as they come.” He was going to say more on the matter until they were rudely interrupted by gunfire. Immediately getting to his feet, d’Artagnan reached for his sword, wishing he had his musket on him but he didn’t expect any trouble. They were surrounded by Red Guards and half a regiment of Musketeers. None of which were the inseparables and that’s why d’Artagnan worried all the more. Captain Treville wasn’t anywhere on the palace grounds either. Probably arguing over politics with the cardinal.

“D’Artagnan protect Anne!” Louis ordered as the Red Guards and Musketeers closed ranks to protect him.

Not understanding how anything like this could have happened, d’Artagnan looked around him and was stunned at the sheer number of bandits that surrounded them. Then he noticed one particular group broke apart from the others and headed toward him and Anne. Knowing what they were up too, d’Artagnan grabbed her by the arm and headed toward Zad.

“Anne, get up on Zad now!” d’Artagnan ordered urgently and God bless her, she didn’t question him on it but with some help from him, Anne struggled to find purchase having to sit sideways because of her voluptuous gown. Hopping up behind her he yelled out, “Yah!” and Zad galloped away carrying the two of them out of the chaos, amidst all the gunfire and clashing of swords.

++++

“D’Artagnan,” Anne managed to get out breathlessly, “what are we doing?”

“I thought it was pretty evident,” he shouted. “I’m trying to make a break for it.” D’Artagnan didn’t want to worry her but considering their situation, it couldn’t be helped. “Look behind us.”

When she craned her neck to peer past d’Artagnan, she gasped. “There must be at least twenty riders after us.”

“Oui,” he snapped. Urging Zad, d’Artagnan had the horse running through the thick forestry, zigging and zagging as he tried to lose the bandits behind them. They went on that way for nearly an hour when d’Artagnan judged it was safe to find shelter.

Slowing Zad down to a cantor, d’Artagnan took in their surroundings. There was a lone house set back into the woods that he could see. A laundry line was tied from one end of a tree to the other. Flapping in the wind to dry were a pair of men's breeches and shirt. Looking at Anne and then back at the clothes, an idea began to form. “Anne, we have to keep going and put more distance between us and those bandits. I can’t afford to even go back.”

“I realized that too, d’Artagnan,” her brow wrinkled in concern for their situation. “I feel Captain Treville will mount a rescue party for us.”

“Yes, I’m sure Athos, Porthos and Aramis are biting at the chomp about now,” d’Artagnan pursed his lips. “You can’t keep riding the way you have been without us having an accident,” he sighed and pointed to the clothes on the line. “I want you to put those on.”

“What?” Anne seemed horrified at the prospect. “That would be stealing?”

“Oui, but it is the most sensible thing to do right now and you will be more comfortable riding in those,” d’Artagnan could see the doubt in Anne’s troubled face. “If it will make you feel any better, on the way back we can give them payment for their use.” That seemed the right thing to say as relief crossed her face.

“I don’t believe anyone’s home at present,” Anne pointed out.

“That’s why I’m even suggesting this,” he gave her a crooked grin. “Go change in the back of the house and then give me your dress. I’ll bury it so deep no one will find it.”

“I have plenty of others back at the palace and am not worried over one gown, d’Artagnan.” She grabbed the breeches and shirt and quickly changed into them. Anne watched as true to his word, d’Artagnan dug a deep hole and threw her dress into it, packing the dirt tightly so as not to be discovered later.

“I’m ready now,” as Anne approached d’Artagnan she noticed his wince. “What?”

He stepped up to her and undid her carefully made-up hair so that it fell softly about her face. “You look more like one of the commoners than a monarch now,” d’Artagnan grinned as she playfully punched him in the arm. “Now let us ride again before night comes upon us.” This time Anne sat behind d’Artagnan with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as they set off once again.

++++

They rode on for another hour until coming to rest near a farm. “I hope we can stay here until rescue comes. We’re not too far from Paris for the captain to find us, but I feel far enough away that the bandits wouldn’t come here looking for us.”

“What are we to tell the owners of this farm, d’Artagnan?”

Lifting her down from Zad, d’Artagnan gazed into her earnest eyes. “Until we are found, you and I are brother and sister.”

Laughing, she hooked her arm into d’Artagnan’s as they walked up to the front porch. “You already are my brother so that shouldn’t be too hard,” she bit her lip. “But we should change my name to Joan for now.”

“How did you come by to pick that particular name out of the air?”

“It belonged to Joan of Arc,” she replied. “Feeling as if I just came out of a battlefield I think it suits.”

“It does indeed,” d’Artagnan agreed, then proceeded to knock upon the door. Seeing an older couple looking at them, he introduced themselves. “My sister and I were set upon by bandits who robbed us. We’re afraid to go back that way for fear of running into them again. Would it be a great imposition for you to put us up for a few days or more until our family comes looking for us.” 

“You look like you’ve both been through hell,” the older woman said and quickly ushered them both inside her home.

“I guess we do appear a little worse for wear,” d’Artagnan smiled shyly at them. “My name is Charles d'Artagnan and this is my sister Joan.”

“This here’s my wife Agnes and I’m Jean-Claude,” he held out his hand to be taken by the boy. “Last name’s Sylvestre and this is my land and farm you now find yourselves on.”

“And a nicer one I have yet to see,” d’Artagnan remarked truthfully.

“You know about farming, lad?” Jean-Claude studied the youngster in front of him and considered that he could do with some fattening up, since he appeared on the skinny side. He doubted the child knew one end of a hoe from another. But then he was astounded at the boy’s response.

“Oui,” d’Artagnan nodded. “I was raised on one and worked the land alongside of my pe’re.”

“Then you can help me in the field until your family finds you,” Jean-Claude turned to look at his wife and seeing the answering smile there, he welcomed the two young people to their dinner table.

++++

During the coming week spent with the Sylvestres, d’Artagnan helped Jean-Claude with the everyday workings of the farm while Anne tried her best to help with the housework. 

But it was quite evident to Agnes that the young lady had never done anything remotely close and wondered what her life was like at home. “You can’t cook, Lord only knows you can’t do a lick of housework worth anything except washing and drying the dishes,” she put her hands on her hips, "what do you do when you’re at home?”

“I do needlework quite well,” Anne tried to defend herself to some degree. “My knitting and quilts are quite exceptional.”

“I’m sure but those won’t put food on the table or clean a house,” Agnes huffed. “You’re going to make some man a poor wife someday if your own maman doesn’t take you in hand soon.”

Wait until d’Artagnan hears what Agnes thinks of my lack of skills, Anne thought. He’ll laugh himself silly. She knew the woman meant well and if Anne were any other type of person, she’d relish in the learning, but duty weighed heavily on her mind knowing there were others searching for them.

“Anne!” d’Artagnan cried as he ran inside the house, grabbing her and swinging her around. “They’re here!” In his joy he had completely forgot to call her by the false name.

“Treville and the others?” Anne nearly danced around the room, so happy was she. Anne ran back outside with d’Artagnan as they both flagged the riders down.

“Mon dieu!” Treville rode swiftly over to them both and jumped off his horse effortlessly. Bowing before her, he glanced at d’Artagnan’s youthful features. “It would seem that you have both landed on your feet.”

“D’Artagnan kept me safe, Captain,” she hugged the youngster to her side. “I couldn’t have had a better protector than he.”

“Your Majesty!” cried out three voices as the inseparables knelt by her side.

“Oh do get up,” Anne ordered softly, hearing d’Artagnan’s amused snort from behind. She turned around and said with a laugh, “Behave yourself.”

Playing the innocent, d’Artagnan looked like butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth.

“Boyo, we were right scared for you,” Porthos picked the lad up and swung him about.

Then it was Aramis’s turn to hug him tightly. The medic’s eye in him gave d’Artagnan a swift once over, making sure the boy wasn’t trying to hide and injury or two... or perhaps three. The youngster was prone to more injuries than Aramis was comfortable with.

“D’Artagnan, I see you’re still alive,” Athos drawled as he slowly approached the child. Placing a hand, one on each of d’Artagnan’s arms, he pulled the boy in close. Whispering in his ear, “I thought we had lost you.”

Clasping the older man to him, d’Artagnan’s eyes watered. “You should know by now that you can’t get rid of me that easily, Athos.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Athos grinned. Feeling better now that he could see their pup was all in one piece for once.

“I can’t get over your new look, my lady,” Treville’s lips twitched. Queen Anne in a commoner’s dress with her light colored hair hanging down behind her back, looked nothing like the royal he knew her to be.

“Oui,” she grinned back. “I may wear my hair down from now on.” Anne spun around for his benefit and heard Treville’s huff of laughter.

Later, it took a bit of time to explain to the Sylvestres the charade played upon them but once it was all out in the open, the older couple understood the subterfuge. They were in awe though after finding out they had been hosting royalty in their home without knowing it. Agnes especially felt awful for the things she had told the queen earlier.

Hugging the older woman, Anne smiled. “When I get home I am going to have someone teach me the things that you dearly tried to do.” She gave Agnes a soft kiss on the cheek.

“And I hope this can tide you over for a little while,” Treville said gruffly as he put a sack of coins in Jean-Claude’s hands. “Coming from farm country myself, I know what backbreaking work it can be.”

“Non,” Jean-Claude tried to push the money aside. “We took them in out of the gladness of our hearts. Payment is not required.”

“But it is from a grateful King,” Treville added. “Please, take it.”

Knowing when he was beaten, Jean-Claude gave in gracefully. He walked over to d’Artagnan and cuffed him gently under the chin. “I shall miss you and your help. I envy your pe’re having a son such as you.” Seeing the boy’s eyes cloud with sadness, Jean-Claude wondered what he had said to put that look in the child’s eyes.

“My pe’re is dead,” d’Artagnan announced quietly. “My life now is with the Musketeers,” he grinned over at Athos, Aramis and Porthos who stood proudly behind him.

“Their gain is my loss, son.” Clapping the boy on the back, Jean-Claude made his goodbyes while Agnes fussed over d’Artagnan as well.

“My lady,” Treville said, “your horse is over there.”

“Non,” Anne smiled and pointed over to Zad, “my horse is right here.” She noticed the odd look the captain gave her and laughed. “I rode in on Zad and I’ll ride back home on him.”

“But it will be uncomfortable in that dress you are wearing,” he protested.

“Ah, but look closely at this particular dress, Captain,” Queen Anne said. “Agnes made one up for me like her own. There are splits on the side so a woman can ride like a man and not have to depend on a side saddle,” she all but danced over to Zad’s side. “I am going to have gowns made like these when I get back to the palace.”

“Ummm, sir,” d’Artagnan interrupted, “do you by chance have anymore coins we may distribute?”

“Oui,” Treville nodded and wondered at the boy’s question.

“We stole a pair of men’s breeches and shirt off a laundry line for Anne to dress in so she could ride better.”

“Oui,” Anne agreed. “No one was home at the time so this may come as a surprise to them.”

"We will make a brief stop there then and," Treville shot d'Artagnan a sharp look, "since when do you address her Majesty as simply *Anne*?"

"Since I've given him permission too," Queen Anne announced. "And Louis gave him permission to call him by his first name as well," she waved her hand in the air. "Of course when we're at court it will be otherwise."

"Of course," Treville said dryly, shooting the boy a chagrined look.

Aramis, Athos and Porthos just sat on their horses stunned, not just that their young one was now on a first name basis with their Majesties but that their queen stole someone's clothes.

“This will make great dinner conversation at the palace later,” Athos announced dryly, making his brothers laugh. “D’Artagnan acquitted himself quite well and I am extremely proud of him for keeping the queen safe.”

“D’Art!” Porthos barked. “Drinks are on me tonight when we get back to Paris!”

Exchanging a wry look with Anne, d’Artagnan mouthed the words - *brothers* to her and she smiled.


	24. Chapter 24

*A week after the rescue of d’Artagnan and Queen Anne*

*Royal Palace*

“Hello, Constance,” d’Artagnan joined her as they walked down the long hallways together. “Do you like your new position?”

She had started shortly after d’Artagnan’s adventure with the queen and had enjoyed it for the most part. “It’s a wonderful job, d’Artagnan, and I’m very grateful you put my name forward.”

“But?” d’Artagnan added with a concerned look her way, “I hear a *but* in there.”

“I fear it will put a further strain on my marriage to Jacques,” Constance kept her eyes steady on the floor as the words poured out of her mouth. Constance dared not risk a glance at d’Artagnan for she couldn’t stand to see pity there.

“Would Monseiur Bonacieux not appreciate your elevated status or the extra income it would provide?” It was an honest question, which d’Artagnan hoped Constance would truthfully supply and not hem and holler about.

“He’d appreciate the extra money but would rather I’d be at home more,” Constance reluctantly admitted. She remembered the God awful argument they had had about it before Constance threw her laundry in his face, storming out of their home to go to her brother’s for some solace. Not that she found any there, for her brother thought her rightful place was in her own home along with Jacques.

“Then if he argued against it...”d’Artagnan was clearly puzzled.

“Why am I here?” Constance laughed. “For once I put my foot down. Opportunities such as this do not usually come my way.”

Grabbing her hands, d’Artagnan twirled her around the room. There was no one around to see his silliness and he laughed the laugh of the young and carefree.

“D’Art!” Constance squeaked. “Silly boy! What are you doing?”

Wearing a stupid grin, d’Artagnan released her hands. “I am just pleased for your decision.”

“Merci,” Constance blushed from all the attention the young man lavished on her. “I never asked, but are you here on business for the captain or pleasure.” She knew that d’Artagnan and their Majesties had grown close over the past few weeks.

“I just came from seeing King Louis and Queen Anne and am now headed back to the garrison.”

“I must be on my way soon too,” Constance hated to let him go but had no right to linger in d’Artagnan’s presence any longer.

“Then I will not detain you, but before you do I have a question,” d’Artagnan had an impish look on his face.

Almost afraid to hear it, Constance hesitated then relented as d’Artagnan gave her a doe-eyed look. “What is it?”

“When will you be home next?” he chuckled softly for he could tell that wasn’t something Constance expected him to ask. “I’m dying for more of your freshly baked baguettes.”

Rolling her eyes, Constance playfully pushed d’Artagnan away from her side. “Now I see why you enjoy my company so much.”

Getting down on his knees, d’Artagnan put one hand on his heart. “I live and die for your cooking, my lady.” At least his theatrics were putting a smile on Constance’s serious face.

“Do hush, you young fool!” Constance glanced about to make sure no one saw d’Artagnan’s antics. “Get up!” she urged.

“Oui, Madame,” d’Artagnan chuckled. “I have caused you enough grief this fine day and must sorrowfully leave your side.”

“Friday,” Constance blurted out to him as d’Artagnan strided away.

D’Artagnan turned around, his eyes dancing with merriment. “What about it?”

“That’s when I’ll be home next,” and then Constance wondered why she told d’Artagnan that. 

Giving her a wink and a courtly bow, d’Artagnan turned back around leaving through the huge open doors that led outside.

++++

*Cardinal Richelieu’s office*

“Did you complete your assignment?” Richelieu snapped at the woman standing in front of his desk, dressed to the nines in the latest fashion.

“It was done as you asked, your Eminence,” Milady smacked her lips together anticipating her reward for ending another fool’s life.

Pulling out a pouch from his desk drawer, Richelieu threw it at her and watched as Milady deftly caught it with her right hand. “I have no need of you at this moment so you can go about your daily routine,” Richeleiu smirked, knowing what her *routine* usually entailed. “But do try not to kill anyone unless I give you leave,” he rasped, doubting she would heed his words.

“Who me?” Milady gave him a delightful laugh and flounced out of his office. After leaving the grounds, she eventually met up with some Red Guards that Milady had previous contact with. Handing them the pouch of coins that the cardinal had just given her, Milady whispered in their ears.

++++

*Streets of Paris*

Killing time until Aramis arrived, d’Artagnan was gazing at window displays again from various shops that lined the street. Without warning, he was grabbed from behind and dragged into a nearby alley, thrown to the ground so hard that his head bounced off the cold bricks that lined the ground. Dazed, he tried to get back up but was roughly kicked on either side as he collapsed, wrapping his arms around his aching ribs.

When d’Artagnan finally got his breath back he rolled over to encounter three angry faces glaring down at him... all attached to Red Guards. “To what honor... do I owe this... meeting, gentlemen,” he got out breathlessly.

“We got ourselves a right cute fellow here,” remarked the shorter of the three guards to his companions.

“Ain't this the whelp that’s been chasing after those Musketeer scum Athos, Porthos and Aramis?” the tall, thin guard snarled.

“He’s the runt of the litter by all appearances,” noted the heavier set guard. “I’m all for teaching this sorry excuse for a pup a lesson.”

“There must be some mistake,” d’Artagnan tried to defuse the situation before he found himself beaten to a pulp. “I haven’t caused any trouble.” Finding himself struggling for air as the heavier Red Guard picked him up to press him tightly against the wall, d’Artagnan kicked out at him with no success.

“Trouble is,” the thinner Red Guard growled in the boy’s ear, “is that you’re alive and breathing our air.”

After those dire words, d’Artagnan lost his sense of reason as he tried to fight back against all three of the men but to no avail as he was brutally beaten.

++++

*Captain Treville's office*

“Aramis, I thought you were meeting d’Artagnan,” Treville frowned at him. “Did you get your wires crossed about the time?”

“I was detained and am leaving at once, Captain.” But before Aramis could do that, Athos pounced on him.

“If you’re here who’s with the boy?” Athos glowered at his friend.

“Rene should be watching him for us.” Seeing Porthos staring at him oddly, Aramis's concern deepened. “Is there something I should worry about?”

“Rene’s down younder training some new recruits that just arrived,” Porthos growled.

“You mean no one’s with d’Artagnan?” Athos’s voice hardened. 

Removing his hat, Aramis ran his fingers through his hair as he was wont to do when agitated. “I best hurry and catch up to our youngest.” Jamming his hat back on, Aramis fairly flew out the door.”

“Sir?” Athos wanted nothing more than to join his comrade as Aramis departed. He felt in his bones something was dreadfully wrong.

“Go on with you, Athos,” Treville glanced at Porthos next. “You too.”

“Merci, Captain,” both men said in unison and raced after Aramis who couldn’t have gotten very far.

As the men left, Treville could only pray that d’Artagnan hadn’t gotten into any trouble while on his own.

++++

Catching up to Aramis, Athos grabbed him by the arm. “Why was not Rene watching d’Artagnan as arranged?”

“I was wrong,” Aramis muttered. “It was Rafael’s turn to shadow our young one.”

“So what happen’ to Rafael then?” Porthos’s gruff voice piped up.

“Before I left the courtyard I found out that Bertrand needed him for sparring practice with the new recruits I mentioned earlier.”

“Mon dieu!” Athos was furious. “With all our brothers supposed to be helping,” his arms flailed in the air, “we end up with no one keeping surveillance at all!” Athos was extremely irritated that the right hand didn’t know what the left had been doing.

“Where were you supposed to meet up with d’Art?” Porthos scouted the streets they walked along with keen eyes. Finally he spotted a crowd a few blocks up that were gathered near an open alley. Nudging Athos in the arm, Porthos nodded in that direction.

The three of them found themselves clearing a path through the throng of people as they entered the alley to see what all the commotion was about.

Staring down at the ashen grey tinged skin of d’Artagnan was the very last thing they expected to see as the inseparables dropped to their knees surrounding the injured boy.

“Mon dieu!” Athos cradled the youngster’s upper body in his lap. Soon his one hand was covered in blood that poured from the back of d'Artagnan's head.

Aramis crossed himself, murmuring prayers while his fingers investigated the damage done to the child. 

A terrified Porthos shouted at the crowd to disperse. Standing up, he used his great height to intimidate the gawkers. “Get out of here the lot of you! Nothin’ here for ya to see!”

“He’s been badly abused,” Aramis considered the bruises he could already see through the boy’s torn clothing. The head wound was bad enough but Aramis believed d’Artagnan’s left arm was broken as well. He knew there were more extensive injuries to be tallied that Aramis could yet see, but this wasn’t the place to be poking the boy about. “Porthos, procure a wagon for us to put the lad in,” he yelled urgently. “Steal one if you have too! Time is of the essence!” Staring back into Athos’s white face, he shook his head. “I can’t treat d’Artagnan here.”

A shaky hand hovered under Aramis’s nose as Athos slowly opened it palm up. In it lay a small spray of blue and white Forget Me Knots.


	25. Chapter 25

The trip back to the garrison was fraught with anxiety over d’Artagnan’s welfare. Porthos sat up in front driving the wagon slowly down the cobblestoned path so as not to jar the boy. Aramis, with Athos’s help, cut away d’Artagnan’s doublet because of the youngster’s broken left limb.

“Merde!” Aramis’s rage grew by leaps and bounds as he realized the extent of the damage done to their youngest. Deft fingers checked d’Artagnan’s chest and ribcage. “All the ribs on his right side are cracked,” he tutted, “a few broken ones on the other side with the rest being badly bruised.

“Can you tend to them here?” Athos’s voice trembled in concern. The child was so still. Tis unnatural for d’Artagnan to be so quiet. Athos believed he had failed in his duty to protect his young charge. Crushing those damn Forget Me Knots in his right hand, Athos swore to himself he’d find that bitch of a wife and make her pay!

“I’m rather more concerned about tackling that crack on d’Artagnan’s skull,” Aramis rummaged through his saddlebags for more bandages. “I’ve staunched the bleeding for now,” he huffed. “I’d be happier if the pup would wake up and that way I could gauge how he's feeling.”

“I want five minutes alone with whoever done that to our whelp!” Porthos growled as he steered the team of horses toward the garrison's entrance.

“I’m positive the captain will put out feelers to see who dared to harm our young one,” Aramis muttered while he checked once more on the bandage he had carefully wrapped around d’Artagnan’s head.

“Later I’ll visit with Flea at the court to ask for her help in keeping an ear out,” Porthos offered gruffly as he slowed the wagon to a stand still. Hopping off, Porthos went to the back to help get the lad out. “I’ll take d’Artagnan up to the infirmary.” Carefully Aramis and Athos shifted the young man into Porthos's strong arms.

His worried blue eyes followed Porthos all the way over to the infirmary doors while Aramis accompanied him. Athos dearly wanted to join his two friends but knew his first duty was to report these events to Treville.

++++

*Captain Treville’s office*

“How badly?” Treville barked as his lieutenant filled him in.

Throwing his hat on the captain’s desk, Athos’s shoulders slumped. “Head injury along with cracked, broken and bruised ribs. Not counting the broken left arm…”

Holding up his hand, Treville stopped the further list of injuries, he definitely got the picture. “Were d’Artagnan’s assailants apprehended?”

“Non,” Athos shook his head. “We were hoping you could reach out to your contacts, as we will, to search for the scum that perpetrated this crime.”

“Let’s go check on the lad’s status.” Treville grabbed his hat off the rack as Athos snatched his own from the desk. “You’re positive Milady’s behind this?”

“She had the audacity to leave her calling card of Forget Me Knots behind.” If Anne had been in front of him this exact minute, Athos would have cheerfully finished what her hanging had not.

++++

*Infirmary*

“Artes, how is the lad doing?” Treville stood looking down at the boy wishing he could take some of the hurt away that he knew d’Artagnan was suffering.

Doctor Devereaux’s grim expression filled the men with dread as he faced them. “Aramis did a fine job with d’Artagnan’s injury to the head. Together we bandaged up the young man’s ribs and set his broken arm.”

“You’re concerned about something else?” Athos remarked as his gazed settled on d’Artagnan’s still features.

“D’Artagnan’s not reacting to any outside stimuli as of yet which has me the most worried.” Devereaux went over to his medical supplies leaving the four men with their own thoughts as they surrounded the youngster's bed.

Pulling up a chair, Athos sat down beside the bed. Picking up the limp hand belonging to d’Artagnan’s good arm, he gave it a gentle squeeze. “You have to wake up now, child,” Athos urged, his voice strong and sure which belied his true feelings of helplessness. Staring at the lifeless hand, Athos became lost in his own thoughts of someone else that cruel fate had taken away from him.

Hearing the sound of a chair as it scraped across the floor, Athos glanced over the other side of the bed to see Porthos sitting down, bent over, arms resting on his legs with his head hanging down as if in prayer. Which of course was more Aramis’s forte but God listens to everyone, so he had been told, though God didn’t listen to his own cries to save Thomas. But Athos had to remember this was not Thomas lying unconscious in the bed. It was another boy he loved like a son.

How did d’Artagnan come to mean so much to him in so little a time span he had no idea. Perhaps Thomas had a hand in bringing them both together, something of divine providence or such as Aramis would say. “Don’t let Anne win like this, d’Artagnan,” he whispered. Hearing Porthos’s grunt, Athos head snapped up and stared at him in question.

“I ain’t leavin’ the boyo’s side for nothin’ this time!” The fierce look Porthos threw at everyone in the room made all of them distinctly uncomfortable. He could tell the others knew the rage he kept inside was near to boiling over and they didn't want to rattle his cage.

Treville placed a hand on the giant’s shoulder and patted it. “I put you in charge of guarding the lad until he’s out of here.”

He knew the captain understood whether Porthos had orders too or not, that there was nowhere else on earth he'd rather be than by d'Artagnan's side.

It grew quiet in the room as a somberness overcame Treville and his three inseparables. For each one didn't know what they would do if d'Artagnan couldn't recover from the damage wrought on him.

And it was as if the boy could feel the vibrations of despair filling the room that finally a soft groan escaped him, taking everyone by surprise as all eyes turned on d'Artagnan.

++++

“Is it done?” Milady had met up later in a secret location with the three Red Guards she had paid to kill d’Artagnan.

“He was in a bad way when we left him,” the heavier guard told her.

Her eyes blazed with fury. “I wanted him DEAD! DEAD! Did you hear me!" Milady screamed. “Not just in a *bad way*!” she retorted. Milady paced in front of them stabbing each of them with a deadly look. “Good God! Do I have to do everything by myself?”

“Then you should have made it your business to do so!” the shorter guard sneered and then suddenly found himself at the end of a very sharp poignard.

“Be away with the lot of you before I change my mind!” Milady hissed.

“*Change your mind?*” the taller guard queried, not comprehending her meaning.

“Oui!” Milady snapped. “About gutting the three of you Red Guard pigs!”

Not wanting to test their luck, the soldiers scurried away from Milady's fearsome wrath.

“Next time don’t come running to us,” the heavier guard warned. Though he wondered if he were far enough away from that poignard of hers.

“You’d be lucky,” Milady snorted and watched the men turn their backs on her.

*Infirmary*

Eyes fluttering open, d’Artagnan’s vision swam in and out for a few moments until the world stopped spinning. Feeling a hand laying on the top of his head, he turned it to encounter Athos’s sad face. “I’m still alive.”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Athos allowed himself a small smile as he watched the pup think it over. He was ecstatic that the lad was finally awake and seemed coherent enough to handle a conversation with them.

“It hurts to think too hard,” d’Artagnan admitted with a slight chuckle.

“La grele Marie...” Aramis began until Porthos cleared his throat quite loudly. “What?”

“The whelp’s alive, no need for you recitin’ the rosary.”

“I was not!” Aramis took offense, sniffing in disdain at his larger friend.

“Things haven’t changed I see,” d’Artagnan muttered, much to the amusement of Captain Treville who simply snorted.

As the doctor pushed past the captain and Aramis to examine his patient now that d'Artagnan was awake, the door to the infirmary burst open as a lovely young woman ran into the room.

Constance’s stricken face only had eyes for the occupant in the bed who blinked back at her in confusion. “What stupid thing did you do to land yourself in here again, d’Artagnan?”

“I’m a bit vague about that myself,” d’Artagnan looked to his brothers to fill in the blanks for himself and Constance.

“All we know, d’Artagnan, is that no one was shadowin' you like they were supposed ta be doin' and when we realized that...” Porthos glanced helplessly at Aramis who was just as frustrated as he.

“We rushed to where I was to have met you,” Aramis bit his lip as guilt filled him.

“And then we discovered you lying hurt in an alley,” Athos kept his tone neutral, not wanting the boy to hear how very angry he was.

“Who did this, son? Can you remember anything at all?” Treville asked as he saw d’Artagnan scrunch up his face trying to think.

“Red... Red Guards,” d’Artagnan whispered in panic as his breathing hitched painfully.

Seeing the pup’s agitated state, Athos tried to calm d’Artagnan down. “Be at ease, child. No one here is going to cause you anymore harm.”

“Red Guards,” Porthos bellowed making the others jump. “That damn well does it!"

“Steady there, mon ami,” Aramis placed his hand on Porthos’s back to keep him in his chair.

“Oui,” Athos nodded. “You can’t go challenging every Red Guard in the Cardinal’s service until you find the right ones.”

“Athos,” Constance’s voice wobbled. “Do you believe this was another attempt on d’Artagnan’s life by Milady?”

“There’s no doubt,” Athos confirmed. “Anne’s calling card was left on d’Artagnan’s chest,” he paused as he glanced at all of them. “No doubt she left them there for me to find.”

“I’m sure Milady’s paid thugs were ordered to place them there,” Treville frowned and realized with d’Artagnan out of commission for a considerable amount of time, this put a huge dent in their plans to find out Richelieu’s other machinations.

“The guards probably thought they left me for dead.” D’Artagnan immediately regretted his choice of words as he noticed everyone flinch. But not so the good doctor, whom he figured was immune to the atrocities inflicted on the soldiers he tended.

“I’ll say extra prayers to the Blessed Virgin for your life, d’Artagnan,” Aramis pledged.

“D’Artagnan, I’ll leave you in Artes’s more than capable hands while Porthos plays bodyguard for all of us.” Treville tapped the boy’s foot before he left.

Realizing he couldn’t lift his left arm and his ribs hurt like the very devil, d’Artagnan looked toward Athos with his best puppy impression.

“Broken left arm,” Athos grimaced as if it were his own limb hurting, “along with damaged ribs and serious bruising.”

“Plus a bad injury to your head,” Aramis added.

“Guess your surveillance on me wasn’t the best,” d’Artagnan quipped, noting three guilty faces looking down on him. “I wasn’t placing blame anywhere.”

“We blame ourselves though.” Athos stood up and sent Aramis a sharp look. “I’ll come back later. There are a few matters that I need to attend.” Not caring what anyone thought, Athos leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on d’Artagnan’s forehead.

“I too will see you in a little while, mon ami,” Aramis gave his best carefree smile to the lad even though he wanted to shoot someone.

A bemused Constance watched the men leave as she perched herself on the end of d’Artagnan’s bed. She was shocked at Athos’s actions. D’Artagnan, it would seem, was good for the man. “Tell you what,” her eyes twinkled brightly, “you don’t have to wait until Friday after all for those baguettes.”

“If I knew all I had to do was end up injured to get them,” d’Artagnan grinned, “I’d do it more often.”

“D’Art,” Porthos growled low. “Ya don’t want ta go temptin’ fate.”

“Listen to the smart man, d’Artagnan,” Constance laughed and got up. “Looks like I’ve got some baking to do.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, anyone that's following this story, a hiccup happened last post and chapter 25 showed up way down the list in case you missed it.  
> So if you did, please read that one first or this new chapter won't make much sense. LOL!
> 
> ++++

*Roughly five or six weeks later – Musketeer garrison*

“I told you to ease into it, d’Artagnan,” Athos scolded gently as he watched the boy finally able to maneuver his left arm without hardly any pain. They hadn’t allowed their youngest to put one foot in the courtyard unless it was to sit on the bench as an observer only. D’Artagnan had chafed at being unable to practice with them, but neither Athos nor his brothers wanted to see the lad hamper his recovery from the grievous injuries he had sustained courtesy of those damnable Red Guards hired by his wife.

“You’re right handed, use that for now and forget about trying to use that left arm,” Athos huffed as he observed d’Artagnan sparring with Rene, the latter having had some free time to help out while Aramis and Porthos were called away by Treville. For now, Athos wanted to see how much work had been lost while their puppy had been healing. The youngster was a little slow on his parries, barely deflecting Rene’s thrust to the boy’s left side, but d’Artagnan’s attack form was still excellent. Maybe there wouldn’t be too much to catch up on after all.

Calling it quits, after Rene noticed d’Artagnan’s energy beginning to flag, both young men walked over to where Athos stood. “Aside from a few hiccups,” Rene grinned over at the younger man, “I don’t think you have much to worry upon, Athos.”

“Our thanks, Rene, for helping out with d’Artagnan’s training,” Athos clapped Rene on the back. “Next time we go out on the town I’ll make sure you are invited along.”

“Now it is my turn to thank you,” Rene smiled, hazel eyes twinkling. “I’ll look forward to it.”

When Rene left them, Athos keen gaze roamed over the boy. He could tell d’Artagnan was slightly winded which wasn’t an uncommon thing given he had just spent nearly a full hour with Rene. But Athos could tell the child was beginning to favor his right side. He knew the cracked ribs were nearly healed but still they bothered d’Artagnan from time to time. “What say you we go check out the menu for today and see what Serge has to recommend?”

“I’m all for that,” d’Artagnan agreed readily. “To think we had gone through all those food and fruit baskets already that their Majesties had continuously sent over to me.”

“You can thank Porthos for that,” Athos chuckled. “I swear that man could out eat the entire regiment.”

“It was very thoughtful for King Louis to send over his personal physician from time to time to check on me as well,” d’Artagnan stumbled slightly as Athos righted him. He guessed the sparring practice had taken more out of him than he had thought. “Even though I trusted Doctor Devereaux and Aramis just as much.”

“Oui,” Athos nodded while keeping an eye on the lad in case he faltered again. “Remember they both hold you in high esteem.”

“You have told me in the past that their friendship could also be detriment to my well being,” d’Artagnan turned a serious face on his friend. "I have to say, Athos, as it turned out the harm that came to myself this time had nothing at all to do with that newly established relationship with their Majesties and everything to do with Milady."

"Ah... oui... well," Athos gazed at the lad not really knowing what to say. "I realized I've said this before, d'Artagnan, but it appears that now you have multiple reasons to be on your guard." They were slowly approaching Serge's domain and he needed to say this now to impress upon the youngster how dire the situation had rapidly become. “Don’t trust too easily someone that is a stranger to you unless one of us or the captain has them thoroughly investigated. You've now become a target from three different directions and must take care."

"You have told me while I am pretending to help Cardinal Richelieu that Aramis, Porthos and yourself would always have my back," d'Artagnan tilted his head eyeing his mentor's uncomfortable look.

"Oui, and look what happened," Athos winced in memory. "The attack came from a totally different direction and NONE of us were there for you!"

"Things happen," d'Artagnan shrugged lightly. "Next time we will all be more watchful," he grinned. "As you say I now have to beware of someone stabbing me in the back because I'm friends with the King and Queen or because I'm actually working against the Cardinal," he paused for a second grimacing, "and of course whatever else Milady has up her sleeves."

"I'm never going to get any sleep worrying over all of this," Athos moaned as d'Artagnan nudged him in the shoulder playfully.

When they had arrived at the canteen, Athos held the door open for the whelp. “It’s a damnable position to be in!" he swore as Athos let d'Artagnan lead the way to a table.

“King Louis has asked me to attend another hunting trip with him as soon as Captain Treville says he feels I can handle it,” d’Artagnan pulled up a chair and sat down.

“One would hope there are no bandits about this time,” Athos remarked wryly as he remembered what had happened both times on their Majestie’s last outings.

“I’m sure the King will triple the guard next time around,” d’Artagnan glanced around the room for Serge so that the man could inform them what the lunch fare was for today. Looking over, d’Artagnan noticed Athos’s smile slip slightly. Touching his friend’s arm, he tilted his head and waited for the man to tell him what his concerns were.

“You know me too well, mon ami,” Athos huffed but tapped the hand still on his arm lightly with a finger. “I nearly go out of my mind the second you’re not in my line of vision,” he bowed his head. “When we found you in that alley I thought the worst.”

“But that didn’t happen, Athos,” d’Artagnan removed his hand, relaxing in his chair. His memories of that time hazy at best. All he remembered of that day was the attack by three Red Guards. Later, Athos had shown him the small spray of Forget Me Knots that were left on his unconscious body. By that time they were wilted, but d’Artagnan knew who had given them to his attackers. Milady it would seem definitely wanted to end his life in what ever manner possible and wasn’t too picky who she hired to do the job.

“Until next time,” Athos snapped and instantly regretted jumping on the boy like that. D’Artagnan didn’t deserve his anger, not after everything the lad had gone through.

“Perhaps a glass of wine will settle your nerves.” D’Artagnan finally spotted Serge and signaled the man to come over. 

“Why stop at just one glass?” Athos raised an eyebrow, lips twitching at d'Artagnan's startled expression.

“Because we’ll both be on parade duty later and it wouldn’t do for you to suffer a hangover the entire time.” D’Artagnan then asked Serge, who had finally rushed over to their table, what today’s special was and placed his order along with the two glasses of wine.

“And you, Athos” Serge grinned at the soldier.

“Same as d’Artagnan,” Athos nodded his assent and watched old Serge scurry off to his kitchen.

“You know I haven’t brought it up, but during the whole of my convalescence the Cardinal personally paid me a visit no less than three times,” d’Artagnan smirked. “It surprised me no end I have to admit.”

“If Richelieu intends investing his time and money in you it behooves him to make sure you’ll be able to carry out your part of the bargain.” Athos’s scowl deepened as he thought of his Eminence. “I wonder if a little bird par chances whispered in Richelieu’s ear that Milady was the one responsible for your injuries if he’d strike out at her.”

“The *little bird* meaning you of course,” d’Artagnan rolled his eyes.

“I did not mention who it would be,” Athos’s eyes gleamed with mischief.

Nodding, d’Artagnan’s lips pursed. “She’s worked for him far longer than I,” he gazed at Athos thoughtfully. “Unless Milady’s done Richelieu a bad turn, I believe his allegiance would be to her first.”

“Richelieu,” Athos snorted, “has no allegiance to anyone but himself!”

“To France he does,” d’Artagnan countered. Then, not wanting to give himself indigestion, he concentrated on eating the delicious lunch Serge just placed before him.

“The Cardinal secretly lines his pockets while making it look like everything he does benefits France,” Athos pointed out, relaxing a bit more as he noticed Serge approach with their order... and of course his single glass of wine.

“I will admit that King Louis wears blinders when around his Eminence.” D’Artagnan nodded his thanks to Serge who had produced a most sumptuous lunch of roasted chicken covered in rosemary gravy.

“Since Richelieu seems to be the topic of the hour,” Athos stabbed a fork into his roasted chicken breast, “you realize when word reaches his ears you’re to resume training again he’ll call you up to his office.”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan chewed on his own chicken leg enjoying its savory flavor. It reminded d’Artagnan of his maman’s cooking. “If we are to enjoy our lunch could we dispense talking about the Cardinal please?”

“Tis a most sensible request,” Athos smiled. “I agree.... for now."

++++

*Cardinal Richelieu’s office*

“Have you found those men responsible finally?” Richelieu glared at one of his lieutenant’s. He believed the man’s name was Leon Espaillat, but he had so many men under his command that he could be forgiven for not remembering them all.

“It took a very long time but, oui, they’ll be reporting to you shortly.”

“I’m sure it also took a considerable amount of our treasury money to loosen tongues as well,” Richelieu sneered, knowing no one would rat out another without some encouragement.

“Oui,” Espaillat shrugged, “there had to be incentive.”

“Do they realize why they’ve been called to my office,” Richelieu asked dryly.

“Non.”

“Good,” Richeleiu grinned slyly. “It will throw them off balance when I accuse them of the horrendous crime they committed against one of my own.”

“I will see if they have arrived, your Eminence.”

“Fine,” Richelieu waved Espaillat away.

++++

*Twenty minutes later - Cardinal Richelieu’s office once again*

The three guards who stood in front of the cardinal all wondered what they could have done to be singled out. The only thing they shared in common was their attack on that boy awhile back. As each man studied the other in grave concern, the cardinal’s harsh voice suddenly washed over them, making them all nervously jump.

“You men have the distinction of nearly beating to death one of my operatives.” Richelieu stood up, cape swirling about him as he walked around his desk. Standing in front of the soldiers, he eyed each man with disdain. “What I want to know is why?” As he paced back and forth in front of his Red Guards, Richelieu was amazed that none of them were giving up the other to save their own skins. “I do not have all day to wait!” he snapped out as his patience was at an end with this whole affair. “Perhaps a good flogging will loosen your tongues,” Richelieu smirked. “Or addle your brains, which ever comes first. I do not care!”

“It was that woman, your Eminence,” Hector Chretien blurted out reluctantly.

“Come, come," Richelieu tutted. "There are many women in the city of Paris,” Richelieu chuckled low. “To which one do you refer?”

Jules De la Grange and Emilien Gason exchanged worried glances, then both men shrugged at one another as if to silently say - *what do they have to lose*. 

“The woman that comes here to see you often times,” De la Grange offered and then stepped back a tad at the fierce frown forming on the cardinal’s face.

“You are sure of this?” Richelieu’s voice raised an octave higher than normal in his shock.

“She hired us,” Gason confirmed, “to kill that young man.”

“Reasons?” Richelieu shouted, not caring his guards witnessed his anger. “Did she give you any reasons to order that boy’s death?”

“Not to any of us,” Chretien replied, wishing he could escape through the door as fast as his feet would carry him. He didn’t trust the cardinal not to order their deaths right on the spot.

Turning his back on the guards Richelieu yelled out, “Dismissed!” Then whirling around he glowered at them to add, “But don’t go far for I have yet to think upon a suitable punishment for you three.” He smirked to himself as he watched the three nearly run over themselves in their haste to leave his presence. 

Slowing walking over to one of the beautifully cut stained glass windows in his office, Richelieu’s eyes weren’t really seeing it. His thoughts instead dwelled on the possible reasons why Milady wanted to see d’Artagnan dead.


	27. Chapter 27

*Royal Palace*

“Masselin, my petite chat,” d’Artagnan announced softly, picking the tiny furball up in his hands and letting Masselin perch himself on d’Artagnan’s left shoulder. He thought to himself that he and Masselin must present a strange picture walking through the palace halls like this. He saw many a lip twitch as he passed by several guards, not to mention the palace retainers.

Hearing delicate footsteps behind him, d’Artagnan stopped to turn around. “Ah, Anne,” he gave her an elaborate bow.

“Silly boy,” she giggled. “I told you to cease doing that.” She neatly plucked Masselin off his solid perch. “Were you looking for me or Louis?”

“Neither actually,” he smiled pleasantly. “The cardinal asked to see me in the gardens.”

“Oh very well,” Anne frowned. “Do not overdue,” she warned gently. “It is not very long since your recovery.” 

“I will take the greatest of care,” with a jaunty salute to her, which made Anne laugh brightly, d’Artagnan went out into the lovely gardens.

++++

*Palace gardens... behind the bushes*

“Well?” Aramis huffed, poking Porthos in the side.

“D’Art’s not here yet,” Porthos growled. “And quit your jabbin’, will ya?”

“This is ridiculous!” Aramis muttered.

“What’s *ridiculous* is that you’re right upset about being assigned to watch our whelp which is keepin’ you from buggerin’ your latest dolly.”

“What a crude way of putting it,” Aramis snapped, irritated beyond on all measure that his friend was correct. Though he really shouldn’t be feeling this way considering what happened last time their young one wasn't watched properly, and poor d’Artagnan nearly died because wires got crossed.

“Wrappin’ it up in pretty words doesn’t change a thing,” Porthos laughed as Aramis pulled a face. “Oh ho! Hush now!” Porthos punched Aramis in the arm just as he spotted their youngest coming out of the palace, heading into the gardens.

“There’s Cardinal Richelieu,” Aramis whispered as he rubbed his sore arm. “I wish we were closer to hear their conversation.”

“Don’t ya trust d’Art to tell us later?”

“The lad has a way of leaving out pertinent facts in fear that the rest of us could be in harm’s way.”

“Yeah, the boy does tend to think he’s the only one capable of protecting us.” Porthos loved d’Artagnan dearly, God bless him! But the child has got to learn that they all protect each other.

++++

*Palace gardens*

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me out here, d’Artagnan,” Richelieu offered the boy a tight smile. “It’s a beautiful day and I do not always get a chance to enjoy them being cooped up in my office with affairs of state. So I thought a change of pace was on order and this time I could take advantage of the fine weather we’ve been having lately.”

“It beats being inside a stuffy office, I must agree,” d’Artagnan nodded.

“I had something on my mind ever since I located those men behind the attack made on you.”

D’Artagnan’s heart skipped a beat at this piece of news. Up until now nothing more had been mentioned about the Red Guards that had left him for dead. “You have them in custody?”

“Oddly enough their dead bodies were discovered in the same alley you were found nearly beaten to death in,” Richelieu watched the boy lose color at his words.

Mon dieu! d’Artagnan thought. Was the cardinal subtly letting him know that he sought vengeance on d’Artagnan’s behalf and had those three Red Guards murdered?

“They will trouble you no more, I think,” Richelieu smirked.

Oui, d’Artagnan’s heart sank. That smirk alone just told him everything he needed to know.

“Lost for words, eh?” Richelieu drew closer to the youngster’s side.

“I am relieved that those men won’t make another attempt on my life. But I wonder what befell them,” d’Artagnan tried to play the innocent and not give the cardinal any idea that he realized Richelieu ordered the death of those men.

“No doubt those three were playing fast and loose with their positions in my service,” Richelieu heaved a heavy sigh, as if he were disappointed with them. “Perhaps someone decided they'd meat out their own brand of justice for the offense against you.”

“Are you not angry at the loss of your guards then?”

“A Red Guard here or there is of no consequence to me,” Richelieu stared directly into d’Artagnan’s wide eyes, “but you are, young man.”

Squirming under the heat of the cardinal’s gaze, d’Artagnan knew without a doubt what was coming next.

“Why does Milady want you dead?” Richelieu hoped the boy wouldn’t lie to him over this. Things could get rather messy very quickly if he did.

And there it was, the elephant in the room so to speak. Now d’Artagnan had to decide if a partial truth would suffice his Eminence. He’d have to play this cautiously. “That was her third attempt on my life,” d’Artagnan found himself blurting out.

Richelieu’s mouth opened and closed like a guppy fish, such was his shock. “*Three* and this is the first I’ve heard of it!” He was rather put out that d’Artagnan hadn’t told him of this before. “And the only reason you have now is because I’ve pressed you for an explanation,” Richelieu’s voice rose high in anger.

“I was hoping she and I could work out our differences,” d’Artagnan tried to look the injured party in this whole affair, “without bothering you about petty squabbles.”

“Please, do go on,” Richelieu said sourly. He didn’t like at all what had been going on under his very nose and not know a damn thing about it! *Petty squabbles* his foot!

“As you know Milady had been trying to recruit me into your service but I kept turning her down,” D’Artagnan explained sincerely. “Then it was like she became unhinged at my repeated refusals.”

“I believe there’s more behind her vindictiveness toward you than your lack of judgment at the time to become my agent,” Richelieu stabbed the younger man with a penetrating look.

“All right,” d’Artagnan actually rolled his eyes at the cardinal, “if you want the whole of the matter, Milady and I had a brief affair.”

“Ah!”

There was a wealth of meaning behind that single word and d’Artagnan felt decidedly uncomfortable. “The first attempt on my life came when Milady tried to burn me alive in someone else’s home,” hearing the cardinal’s gasp of surprise he continued. “The second time was when she paid some buffoon to slit my throat.”

“Mon dieu!” There were times that Milady unnerved even himself. Hearing what she had tried to do with d’Artagnan gave Richelieu second thoughts about keeping her on his payroll.

“How did you manage to escape both times unscathed, my son?”

“My friend’s saved me,” d’Artagnan answered truthfully. “Athos felt something was wrong and found me just in time to pull me out of the blazing house.” He prayed the cardinal wouldn’t push him for further details about whose house it was. “Then after that incident, Porthos watched my back and saved me from the second attack,” d’Artagnan smiled at the thought of his huge, gruff, mother hen. “My brothers are very brave.”

“Or very foolish,” Richelieu muttered. He had to wonder how d’Artagnan’s comrades would feel once it became known that d’Artagnan was working for him and would never become a Musketeer. The boy’s loyalties would be put to the test. Richelieu would see to it that when the time came that d’Artagnan wouldn’t be swayed to make the wrong choice. “What about this last attempt?”

“I nearly lost my life,” d’Artagnan replied seriously. “No one saw this coming, especially me, and I was caught unawares.”

“When you first told me you wanted to work alone or not at all,” Richelieu frowned, “it was because of Milady?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan shrugged. “I knew you had her in mind.” Allowing himself a small huff of laughter, d’Artagnan saw the cardinal looked at him oddly. “I could have saved myself a lot of hurt if I had just agreed the first time Milady propositioned me with your offer.”

“Why didn’t you then?” The cardinal’s shrewd gaze locked on the boy.

“At the time I didn’t realize how costly it was to live in Paris when one doesn’t have a paying job.”

“Your farm?” Richelieu snapped out sharply.

“My retainers send me a small monthly income but it doesn’t stretch far and even though Captain Treville is sponsoring me I don’t like asking for handouts.” He didn’t bother mentioning that Athos was also helping him with funding.

“Oui,” Richelieu nodded in understanding. “Gascons have always been too proud for their own good.”

“So that is why I considered your proposition later,” d’Artagnan felt the need to bite his tongue from the many lies he had just told a man of the cloth. But what type of cloth is Richelieu cut from? That remains to be seen.

“But made a deadly enemy of Milady in the process,” Richelieu pointed out in exasperation.

“It didn’t help my case when I turned down her offer of becoming lovers again either,” d’Artagnan reluctantly admitted.

“Ah, the follies of youth,” the cardinal chided, still stunned by the boy's revelations. Richelieu found d’Artagnan a young man who could think on his feet running. He liked that quality and had decided awhile back that he would do everything within his power to tie d'Artagnan to his side. If Milady carried on this vendetta of hers, Richelieu may have to take her out of the picture altogether. 

Blushing, d’Artagnan ducked his head and heard the cardinal’s soft laughter.

“Go on with you now,” Richelieu waved the boy on. “I’m sure you have training practice to attend. Do you not?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan grinned. “Athos has threatened me if I wasn’t on time I’d have to muck out the stalls.”

“Heaven forbid!” As Richelieu watched d’Artagnan run off, his dark thoughts turned toward Milady.

++++

*Palace gardens... bushes again*

“There goes d’Art,” Porthos said as he pushed Aramis out of his way.

Falling on his rear, Aramis glared at his friend as he got back to his feet and dusted himself off. “Where’s the fire?”

“I said I wasn’t lettin’ the whelp outta my sight and I meant it,” Porthos rushed past the other man, trying to keep track of d’Artagnan.

“Well hold on,” Aramis complained, “I’m right behind you.”

“Then get a move on, mon fre’re,” Porthos growled. “D’Art’s right fleet of foot and is gettin’ further away from us.”

“Nag, nag, nag,” Aramis grumbled.

“I heard that!” Porthos said as he followed their young one back to the garrison.


	28. Chapter 28

*Captain Treville’s office*

“Cardinal Richelieu now knows that it was Milady behind all those attempts on my life,” d’Artagnan paced the room as he needed to shake off his nervous energy. “And that’s not all,” he still couldn’t wrap his mind around this part. “I believe Richelieu had those three Red Guards murdered for harming me.”

“Is that what he specifically told you?” Treville could see Athos was troubled over this surprising news by the wrinkling of his forehead in concern. For it would mean that d’Artagnan had become something more than a means to an end for the cardinal. Dare he even guess that Richelieu was starting to see the boy as something of a protégé. If that were the case, d’Artagnan’s life would indeed hang in the balance if Richelieu were to ever find out the lad’s true colors.

“The cardinal mentioned that those guards were found in the same alley as the one you discovered me in,” d’Artagnan explained. “Richelieu made it a point to make sure I knew those men were dead,” he looked over at Athos with a troubled expression. "I’m getting the feeling that the cardinal’s looking out for my welfare.”

“Mon dieu!” Aramis crossed himself. “You now have a most powerful patron in your corner, d’Artagnan.”

“I doubt d’Art’s lookin’ at it in the same light,” Porthos frowned as he leaned against the wall. The man looked relaxed but he was anything but. Especially after hearing this type of unwelcome news.

“What do you think he’ll do to Anne?” Athos wasn’t sure if he really cared one way or the other, just so she stayed away from d’Artagnan and himself.

“I couldn’t really say, but after I explained the varied ways Milady tried to end my life, an odd look overcame him at the time.” D’Artagnan remembered the almost frightened expression that covered his Eminence’s features. “Hazarding a guess I’d say Richelieu fears Milady to a certain degree himself.”

“He would be the most stupidest man alive if he didn’t have a healthy fear of her.” Athos knew to his cost never to turn his back on that woman.

“I wonder if we could lay a trap for her,” Aramis mused with that canny mind of his.

“To what end?” Tilting his head as he watched Aramis curiously, d’Artagnan wondered what good it would do even if they had Milady in their hands.

“Give her a choice to leave Paris forever or risk death at our hands, the king's or the cardinal’s,” Aramis explained.

“D’Artagnan, if you made it clear to her she’s lost favor with Richelieu, Milady may just decide to cut her losses and run hell for leather,” Treville smiled at the thought. It would be one way to rid himself of a painful thorn in his side. Even better not to worry that she was out to kill d’Artagnan. His life would be so much simpler then.

“I’ll arrange to meet her at a neutral spot where I should be relatively safe from any harm Milady may desire to do me while in my company,” d’Artagnan said, noticing Athos’s dark look. “Then all of you could come out of hiding, we’ll say our piece and Captain Treville could officially banish her.” He started to feel much lighter of heart now that a formulated plan came together.

“Works for me,” Porthos grunted. It was the first thing in dealing with Milady that remotely made any sense to him.

“I like it,” Treville grinned. “Do it, d’Artagnan.”

"Oui, mon ami," Aramis placed an arm across d'Artagnan's back and hugged him, "I love it when a plan comes together."

Grabbing the boy tightly by his arm before he could leave, Athos leaned over to whisper. “Oui, by all means do it, but make sure Anne doesn’t stick her very sharp poignard in your back first.”

“You know, Athos,” d’Artagnan snorted, “once in awhile you have to look on the brighter side of life.”

Watching their petite fre're go out the door, Athos shook his head and tried to remember if he were ever that young and enthusiastic.

++++

*Black Pearl Tavern*

Pacing outside of the tavern, Milady kept glancing at the note that had been delivered at her apartment earlier that day. Wondering why she even bothered to meet the young man after the way they parted company had Milady thinking she had lost her own senses. Especially after she tried to have d’Artagnan killed multiple times. Knowing it was getting later, she smiled to herself. It would seem that it wasn’t only a woman’s privilege to keep someone waiting. If d’Artagnan didn’t show himself in say ten more minutes, Milady would leave since she had better things to do with her time. When she detected the sound of running feet, Milady turned around to encounter d'Artagnan who was trying to catch his breath.

“Apologies for my tardiness, Milady,” d’Artagnan smiled at her. “Captain Treville had last minute orders for me to attend to.” Holding the door open for her, he bowed slightly. “Please let us go inside now.”

Once he steered Milady toward a secluded table in the back, d’Artagnan ordered a bottle of Anjou wine.

“Are we celebrating something?” Milady wondered what this was all about. Unless the boy finally has lost his faculties. For surely d’Artagnan had to realize who was behind the attempts to end his short life.

“Oui,” d’Artagnan’s head bobbed. When the wine arrived, he poured until both their glasses were full to the brim. Raising his own glass up, d’Artagnan grinned. “Here’s to you leaving Paris.”

A delicate eyebrow arched up. “Are you quite mad?” Now Milady knew for sure the child had lost his mind. “I have no intention of leaving.”

“I’m happy to inform you that you have lost all favor with Cardinal Richelieu,” d’Artagnan’s eyes glinted with malice as he watched all color leech from her complexion. 

“What do you mean by that?” Milady couldn’t lose Richelieu’s patronage. What would she do to survive if she had no funds to support herself? Milady refused to go back to her old trade of becoming a lowly thief once more. Surely, d’Artagnan was having a bit of fun with her.

“He found out you’ve been behind the attempts on my life.” D’Artagnan finished his glass of wine and as he poured himself another he carefully studied Milady’s face.

Thinking two could play this game, Milady tried to make light of it. “Is that all?” she relaxed. “Richelieu won’t act on anything. We’ve been working together far too long for him not to trust me.” But secretly Milady wasn’t absolutely sure about that, especially after noticing the smug expression that covered the young Gascon’s face.

“Richelieu subtly hinted to me that he had those three Red Guards you procured murdered,” d’Artagnan allowed himself a small smile at her discomfort. "Of course I knew it was you," he scoffed. "Giving yourself away with those Forget Me Knots... not the brightest idea I must say," he tutted.

Fingering her choker, Milady almost couldn’t catch her breath at the implication d’Artagnan’s words meant for her. “My life?”

“May be forfeit as well if I understood his Eminence correctly.” D’Artagnan, of course, embellished that part for he wasn’t quite certain that the cardinal would end Milady’s life.

“This meeting then?” Milady choked out, pushing her glass of wine aside as she began to feel slightly sick to her stomach.

“To offer you a choice,” came a cultured voice from behind Milady.

Paling even further as she recognized that deep timber, Milady watched in dismay as her husband moved around the table to stand behind d’Artagnan like an avenging angel. Her heart nearly stopped beating. Composing herself as best she could, Milady managed to keep her voice from shaking. “And what would that be?”

“Leave Paris within the next twenty four hours, never to return or you could meet a very nasty end in a number of ways.” Athos stared into her deadly green eyes, which he used to so cherish but now despised with every part of his being.

“King Louis likes our pup here,” Porthos laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He could cut off your head just like that,” he snapped his fingers, enjoying making the woman nervous.

“Or hang you,” Aramis added cheerfully. “Something I’m sure you’ve had experience of before.” He stared at her choker knowing what it covered. “I know the hangman personally,” Aramis’s brown eyes danced with amusement as he twisted the screws. “I could always put in a good word for you so that he’d make it nice and quick.”

"And if the king doesn't act upon it," Treville gruffly broke in, "the Musketeers protect our own," his veiled threat was there for Milady to hear.

“That doesn’t even cover what Cardinal Richelieu may plan to do if he gets to you first.” D’Artagnan wondered if they had totally unnerved Milady yet. He got his answer when she suddenly stood up, overturning her chair, and backed into a solid form that came up from behind her.

Whirling around, Milady gasped in fright. The captain of the Musketeers stood there wearing a feral grin as he stared down at her. “What do you want me to do?” Milady didn’t mean for it to come out that way, for it sounded more like she was pleading with these men and Milady would be damned if she'd plead for anything more in this life!

“I want you out of Paris, Madame!” Treville announced harshly. “As my lieutenant just stated. You have twenty four hours and within that time frame you will be carefully monitored. If you decide to go I will have men follow you to make sure you leave Paris for good. If you ever decide to return, any one of my men will have orders to kill you on sight without remorse."

“D’Artagnan!” Milady tried to appeal to the young man’s gentler nature.

“Do not think to use your wiles on him any longer!” Athos growled as he still stood behind d’Artagnan’s chair, a hand braced on both the boy’s shoulders for comfort. Anne would have to go through him before she got to d’Artagnan. “Your last attempt nearly cost the youngster his life!”

“Will nothing I have to say sway any of you,” Milady turned in a complete circle to look each man in the face. She saw nothing but contempt for her reflected in the hardened men looking back at her. Though d’Artagnan’s expression held a hint of sadness to it. “I will leave,” Milady choked out. “You have my word.”

“Which means nothing,” Athos spat in disgust. Then feeling hands reaching up to cover his own, Athos looked down into d’Artagnan’s concerned brown eyes. Concern for him. Athos was humbled by it as he squeezed the pup’s shoulders in affection.

“I will have eyes watching you,” Treville gazed at her as one would if dealing with a cobra... cautiously. “Remember that.”

As Milady hastily left them, all five men sat down at the table and were quiet for a brief time.

“Think she bought into our story that Richelieu may knock her off?” Porthos looked at d’Artagnan.

“I believe we’ve scared her enough for Milady not to bother checking if we told her the truth and that’s more than enough for me.” Reaching for the bottle of wine he had purchased, d’Artagnan realized he needed more glasses now. 

“Allow me,” Aramis smiled as he got up to approach a pretty tavern wench.

“We’ve probably lost him now,” Porthos chuckled. But he was proven wrong when Aramis came back with a huge grin on his face.

“She’ll be bringing us more glasses and another bottle of wine courtesy of our good captain here,” Aramis eyes twinkled.

“You do take a lot upon yourself,” Treville snorted. But when their glasses were full he proposed a toast. “Here’s to Milady! May she never grace us with her presence again!”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter!  
> I want to thank everyone for their kudos, encouragement and just great comments throughout this story.  
> It's been fun but I'm still working on Fateful Discoveries and a possible new series that I hope will be received well. Aside from stand alone stories that hit me when the muse feels like it as well.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ++++

*Next day, Athos’s apartment*

With the threat of Milady truly gone now, Athos and d’Artagnan could breathe much easier. Athos had earlier talked to Rene who told him that he and at least five other Musketeer brothers had shadowed Milady’s movements since she left Paris. She had gone to Le Harve and boarded a ship where Rene and the others had covered all exits, making it impossible for her to slip away without any of them noticing. Still they waited until the ship set out to sea before leaving the docks. So Athos had informed d’Artagnan first, Treville second and his other two friends last.

Raising a glass of wine to his lips, Athos spoke to thin air. “You are gone from me now and I am glad of it.” Now to weightier issues concerning d’Artagnan and Cardinal Richelieu.

++++

*Richelieu’s office*

“Milady cannot be found anywhere in Paris,” Richelieu observed d’Artagnan at his most innocent, which meant the boy probably knew her whereabouts, but oddly enough he did not press the matter further. Richelieu found that he could care less where Milady had slithered off too. She had become a liability and Richelieu did not care to work with liabilities. He had enough problems dealing with King Louis and his temper tantrums.

“Perhaps she discovered her fortunes elsewhere,” d’Artagnan shrugged, as if it was no skin off his back. “As long as she is nowhere near me I am content.”

Nodding in agreement, Richelieu had finally decided that this youngster could pull off a plan he had been devising for some time now. He just needed the right person to carry it out. Now he had found him. “D’Artagnan,” Richelieu indicated an empty chair,” please sit down.” Once the boy settled himself, Richelieu steepled his fingers and bent his head, almost as if in prayer. When he looked back up his eyes met those of d’Artagnan’s questioning ones. “Queen Anne has yet to produce a child. If she cannot the monarchy will be in jeopardy,” forgetting himself Richelieu slammed his hand down on his desk. “Louis must have a son!”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan dared not say a thing, as a feeling of foreboding filled him at what Richelieu may require.

“The queen must die so that Louis will be free to wed someone else worthy of his position," Richelieu unlaced his fingers, "and hopefully a woman whose capable of giving him a child," he added wryly.

“What is it you require of me, Your Eminence?”

“Queen Anne likes you, as does Louis. You’re welcomed into the palace like a long lost relative,” Richelieu fingered his mustache as he watched the boy’s reaction. “The queen trusts you with her life.” Smiling slyly, Richelieu leaned forward. “Who better to get close to her than Queen Anne’s newest confidant?” He sat back in his chair as he studied the young man. “I have every confidence that you’ll do me proud.”

He was in shock at the cardinal’s words, but d’Artagnan steeled himself as he knew this game had to be played Richelieu’s way. “What do I get out of this?”

Chuckling, Richelieu clapped his hands. “Ah, mon ami, you are a never ending delight to the senses. *What do you get out of it*? Mmmmm,” Richelieu tapped his chin in thought. “You will become my right hand and the Captain of the Red Guards.”

Standing up, d’Artagnan grinned. “It will be done as you wish.”

++++

*Athos’s apartment*

“He wants you to murder her?” Aramis was sick to his soul. “And he, a man of the church!" Aramis spat.

“I’d say it's right time to kick the cardinal out of church,” Porthos added with a wicked light shining in his dark brown eyes.

“Gents, let’s get back on topic of the queen please,” Treville sighed as he watched d’Artagnan. The boy stood beside Athos shoulder to shoulder. He wasn’t sure who was propping up whom.

“D’Artagnan told me he has a plan,” Athos offered, placing a caring hand on their youngest’s arm.

“Tell me,” Treville ordered. The boy was good at coming up with ideas. Though half of them usually ended up with the lad getting hurt. He prayed this wasn’t one of those times.

“I ask the cardinal to meet me at the cathedral where I will then inform him of how I plan to kill Her Majesty,” d’Artagnan ducked his head. He couldn’t meet the captain’s eyes for fear that his idea would be put aside. Peeking up again through his bangs, he smiled shyly as he heard no objection bursting forth from Treville’s lips. “We will have Queen Anne listening in and then she will confront Richelieu herself.”

“Then his fate will be left entirely in her hands,” Treville smiled. “I think it will work,” he was pleased with the young man’s ingenuity. D’Artagnan’s genius would only improve with age, if God granted the lad a long life. In this business one never new when one’s time on earth was up. “When will you do this?”

“I’m going over to the Royal Palace tonight for dinner where I will get Anne,” seeing the frown on Treville’s face at the familiarity, d’Artagnan immediately corrected himself, “ummmm, I meant Queen Anne.” He cleared his throat as embarrassment colored his cheeks. “I will get her alone to tell her all of it.” Glancing at his brothers, d’Artagnan relaxed when he saw their smiles of approval. “If she agrees, I want to put this into motion on the morrow.”

“Strike while the iron is hot!” Porthos crowed. “The cardinal’s downfall,” he laughed heartily. “Now I’ll drink to that!” Turning toward Athos he winked. “Time for you to break out that special bottle of wine you’ve been stingy with for the last few years.”

“Must I,” Athos huffed, rolling his eyes as he heard both d’Artagnan's and Aramis’s amused snorts. “I doubt it has even had time to age well.”

++++

*Next day*

Waiting in the cathedral, d’Artagnan nervously paced. He prayed this worked, otherwise Richelieu would be executing a plot to rid himself of one Gascon farm boy.

“D’Artagnan,” Richelieu walked silently up to young man. “What have you decided upon?”

“You definitely want this?” D’Artagnan pretended he was having second thoughts. “For me to kill Queen Anne?" he held out his hands. "There are no other options available?”

“I believed we were on the same page yesterday.” Richelieu wondered if the boy could do this after all. He may be putting too much pressure on d’Artagnan. It wasn’t everyday that one asked you to kill a queen. “Oui, I need her out of the way. France needs an heir,” Richelieu announced firmly. He tried to see it from d’Artagnan’s point of view. Being as young as he was Richelieu could well understand d’Artagnan’s resistance to ending Queen Anne’s life.

A secretive smile came to d'Artagnan's lips at Richelieu's confirmation. "I had to be sure you see," glancing behind him, d’Artagnan backed slowly away from the His Eminence. Turning from Richelieu, d’Artagnan stared into an alcove and bowed slightly. “Your Majesty.”

Stepping out of the shadows, Queen Anne slowly approached Cardinal Richelieu’s trembling form as the man fell down to his knees. “Hail holy Queen,” he murmured low as fear filled him. 

“Look at me, Cardinal. Look at the woman you chose to kill.”

“What I was doing was for the good of all France,” Richelieu tried to explain, knowing it was a weak excuse at best.

“Somehow I doubt your words are true.” Then Queen Anne turned slightly to hold out her hand, waiting until her husband joined her side. Hands entwined together they faced the man whom they had once put their trust in.

“You have cut me to the quick, Cardinal,” King Louis announced, hurt filled his voice. “I have loved you as a pe're and this is how you repay me.”

Keeping his eyes trained on the floor, Cardinal Richelieu’s shoulders began to shake. He realized his life was forfeit as of this very moment. He started to make peace with his God as he closed his eyes.

“Only because of your past service to France,” King Louis held up his hand to prevent the cardinal from speaking as Richelieu’s head snapped up in question, “and knowing that your misguided plot was to the betterment of my country,” King Louis squeezed his wife’s hand, “I will not have your head served to me on a platter.”

Hearing this, d’Artagnan was stunned as were his friends and Captain Treville.

“So the devil gets away with it,” Porthos growled low, as Aramis swore softly in the background.

“How did the king become involved in this?” Athos whispered his question to the boy.

“It was Queen Anne’s idea,” d’Artagnan mumbled. “I thought it a poor decision at the time,” after the words he heard d’Artagnan hung his head, “seems I was right.”

“However, I am sending you back to Rome,” King Louis smirked. “It would seem you are in ill health and can no longer carry out your duties to France.”

Words failed Richelieu. He would keep his head but head back to the Vatican with his tail between his legs. He should be relieved but he wasn’t. His loss of position would be frowned upon when he returned to Rome. They’d probably tuck him away in a tiny office never to be seen or heard from again. His eyes roamed the darkness of the cathedral as he finally spotted d’Artagnan standing behind the queen. “You never were on my side, were you?”

“Non, I’m delighted to say,” d’Artagnan dipped his head toward Louis and Anne. “My loyalty was always to Their Majesties.” He was pleased to see the royal couple smiling back at him.

“I will have a full Musketeer escort available for your departure tomorrow, Cardinal.” King Louis eyed the man with evident distaste. “To think all those years I was taken in by you,” he said sadly. “More fool I.”

Getting back to his feet, Richelieu found himself surrounded by at least six Musketeers who had quietly entered the cathedral.

Realizing King Louis had planned in advance to have a handful of Musketeers at the ready for today's outcome, Treville faced his men. “Do not leave Cardinal Richelieu’s side until His Eminence boards his ship tomorrow," he ordered.

Watching Richelieu leave, it was as if a great weight lifted off of d’Artagnan’s young shoulders. “Mon dieu! I have never been so worried that things would go sideways.”

“D’Artagnan,” Louis placed his hand on the boy’s back. “Captain Treville had informed me prior to this of your extracurricular activities in regards to the cardinal’s various schemes,” he smiled gently at his young friend. Unsheathing his sword, Louis glanced at Anne who nodded back in silent agreement with her husband. “Please kneel.”

Bewildered at the request, d’Artagnan didn't move a muscle until Athos’s words reached his ears.

“Do it before he changes his mind.” Athos’s dry remark had everyone chuckling, but he could tell that the pup didn’t realize what the king had in store. Tapping his own pauldron, Athos grinned as it finally registered with the boy what honor was to be bestowed upon him.

When d’Artagnan knelt before his sovereign his thoughts were on his pe’re. Wondering if the man would have been proud of his accomplishment today.

“Your unswerving loyalty, bravery and friendship to both the queen and I has not gone unnoticed.” Louis tapped his sword gently to each of d’Artagnan’s shoulders. “Rise, d’Artagnan.” Re-sheathing his sword, Louis stepped forward gripping the boy’s arms as d’Artagnan still knelt. “Rise as a Musketeer.” He kissed the younger man on both cheeks. Then it was Anne's turn who did the same. When a white blur of motion raced passed everyone, it took all of them by surprise until they realized what, or should that be who, had jumped into the boy’s arms. Licking at d’Artagnan’s chin was Masselin, who was not to be outdone in the congratulation department.

Covering her mouth with a hand, Queen Anne’s muffled laughter was contagious as everyone joined in her mirth. Under control once more she gazed fondly at d’Artagnan as Masselin perched on the boy’s shoulder again, which was the kitten's favorite place to be. “I forgot I brought him along.”

“I’m all for a celebration,” King Louis announced proudly. “An impromtu at the palace tonight in honor of d’Artagnan’s commission and,” King Louis paused as he settled his gaze on Treville, “my Captain’s new position as political adviser to the realm.” He realized that politics was distasteful to his grey fox, but he would not accept a refusal from him. Though by looking at the fierce glare Treville sent his way King Louis knew the man was not exactly dancing with joy over the prospect. “Be at ease, Treville, you shall still retain your position as Captain of the Musketeers."

Bowing, Treville grinned at his king. “Then I happily accept.” Glancing at Athos, he crooked a finger. When the younger man approached, Athos arched an eyebrow in question. “This means you’ll be handling more of my duties in my absence whenever His Majesty has need of me.”

“As long as your office does not become a permanent one for me,” Athos grimaced just thinking upon it, “I will be fine.”

“Non, mon fre’re,” Aramis slapped Athos on the back. “We all know that duty will eventually fall to d’Artagnan when he finally is old enough to grow a decent beard and gets a damn hat!”

Howls of friendly laughter echoed in the halls of the cathedral as d'Artagnan began his new life as a fully fledged Musketeer. 

The End


End file.
